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ADAM BEDE 

A PLAY IN FIVE ACTS 
Founded on GEORGE ELIOT'S famous novel 

ROBERT LEWIS WEED 





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r^ ACT FIRST. 



Scene First — Broxton, England— The Rectory. 
Scene Second — Hayslope, England — The Hall 
Farm. 

ACT SECOND. 
Scene First — (Evening of next day) — In the Wood. 
Scene Second — {One month later) — The Chase 
Lawn. 

ACT THIRD. 
Scene First — {Two days later) — The Hermitage. 
Scene Second — {Next day) — The Hall Farm, 

ACT FOURTH. 
Scene First — Broxton {Eight months later) — The 

Rectory. 
Scene Second — Stoniton (Two weeks later) — 

The Prison. 

ACT FIFTH. 
India, April 6, 1799 — {Six months later) — Grove of 

Sultanpet. 



CAST OF CHARACTERS. 



Adam Bede. 
Squire Donnithorne. 
Arthur Donnithorne. 
Reverend Adolphus Irwine. 
Martin Poyser. 
Seth Bede. 
Joshua Rann. 
Meester Craig. 
Meester Casson. 
Surgeon Maltby. 
Jack Cranage. 
Fayther Taft. 
Fayther Poyser. 
Bartle Massey. 
Carrol (a butler). 
Mills (a butler). 
Messenger. 
Jailor. 
Mrs. Poyser. 
Hetty Sorrel. 
Mrs. Irwine. 
Lisbeth Bede. 
ToTTY Poyser. 
Molly (a maid). 
And 
Dinah Morris. 

Tenants, Farm-hands, Villagers, Soldiers, Sepoys. 
Period — A. D. 1798-99. 



Copyrighted, 1899, 

by 

Robert Lewis Weed. 



ADAM BEDE. 



ACT FIRST— SCENE FIRST. 



The Rectory, Morning. The Study. 

Window r. Door l. c. leading into hall; hall- 
stairs seen at back. Fireplace l. Walls lined. 
WITH books. Large study table c. Chairs r. and 
L. Armchair and hassock near fire l. Small 
table r. near window, chairs r. and l. of table. 



Discovered, Mrs. Irwine and Rev. Adolphus Ir- 
wine seated at small table r. playing chess. 

Mrs. Irwine — "There, Dauphin, tell me what that 
is?" (deposits her queen and quietly folds her arms.) 

Rev. a. Irwine — "Ah! you witch-mother, you sor- 
ceress ! How is a Christian man to win a game of you ? 
Before we began I should have sprinkled the board 
with holy water. You've not won that game by fair 
means, now, so don't pretend it!" 

Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, yes, that's what the beaten 
have always said of conquerors. Shall I give you an- 
other chance?" 



8 ADAM BEDE, 

Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I shall leave you to 
your conscience." (rises and looks out of window R. ) 
"The weather is clearing, we must go and splash up 
the mud a little, mustn't we, Juno?" (strokes a brown 
setter affectionately. ) 

Mrs. Irwine — "True, the sunshine is falling on 
the board to show more clearly what a foolish move 
you made with that pawn." 

Rev. Irwine — "Mother, I'm ashamed of you ! You 
are an ungenerous victor. But I must go upstairs and 
— " (starts toivard door; is met by Carrol) 

Enter Carrol (door l. c.) 

Carroll — "If you please, sir, Joshua Rann wishes to 
speak with you." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Let him be shown in here. I always 
like to hear what Mr. Rann has to say. His shoes 
will be dirty, but see that he wipes them, Carrol." 

(Exit Carrol l. c.) 

Mrs. Irwine — "What do you suppose can be the 
matter now, Dauphin ?" 

Rev. Irwine (x's to fireplace) — "I haven't the 
least idea, but something out of the ordinary you may 
be sure. Joshua is not the man to pay me a visit 
unless he has a grievance or some news to tell." 

Enter Carrol l. c. followed by Joshua Rann. 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, Joshua, good morning. Sit 
down." 

Joshua Rann — "Thank your reverence, I'll stand 
if you please, as more becomin'." (pulling a lock of 
his hair.) "T hope I see your reverence well, an' Mrs. 
Irwine, well." 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Joshua, thank you. You see 
how blooming my mother looks. She sets us younger 



ADAM BEDE. 9 

people an example in not giving way to age. {dogs 
sniff at Rann's legs; he tries to be polite and not 
notice them) Never mind the dogs, Joshua, give them 
a friendly kick. Here, Pug, you rascal. Is anything the 
matter in Havslope that vou've come over this morn- 
ing?" 

Joshua — "Why, sir, I had to come to Brox'on to 
deliver some work and I thought it 'ud be but right to 
call an' let you know the goin's on as there's been i' the 
village, such as I hanna seen i' my time, an' I've lived 
in it man an' boy sixty vear come Saint Thomas." 

Rev. Irwine— "Well?" 

Joshua — ^'I collected the Easter dues for Mr. Blink 
afore your reverence come into the parish, an' been 
at the ringin' o' ivery bell, an' the diggin' o' ivery 
grave, an' sung i' the choir long afore Bartle Massey 
come wi' his counter-singin' an' fine anthems as puts 
iverybody out, but himself — one takin' it up after 
another like sheep a-bleatin' i' the fold." 

Rev. Irwine — "But, Joshua, you — " 

Joshua — "I know what belongs to bein' a parish 
dark, an' I know as I should be wantin i' respect to 
your reverence, an' church, an' king, if I was t' allow 
such goin's on wi'out speakin'." 

Rev. Irwine — "Why, what in the world is the 
matter, Joshua? Have the thieves been at the church 
lead again?" 

Joshua — "Thieves ! no sir — an' yet, as I may say, 
it is thieves, an' a-thievin' the church too. It's the 
Methodisses as is like to get th' upper hand i' the par- 
ish, if your reverence, an' his honor Squire Donni- 
thorne, doesna think well to say the word an' forbid it. 
Not as I'm a-dictatin' to you, sir; I'm not forgettin' 
myself so far as to be wise above my betters. Howiver, 
whether I'm wise or no, what I've got to say, I say 
— as sure as I'm a-standin' afore your reverence — the 
young Methodist woman, Dinah Morris, as is at Mees- 
ter Poyser's, ha' been a-preachin' an' a-prayin' on the 
green." 



lO ADAM BEDE, 

Rev. Irwine — "Preaching on the green ! What, that 
pale pretty young woman I've seen at Poyser's? I 
saw by her dress that she was a Methodist or a Quaker 
but I didn't know she was a preacher." 

Joshua — "It's a true word as I say, sir; an' she 
preached there last night ; an' she's laid hold o' Chad's 
Bess, so the gell's been i' fits welly iver sin'." 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, Bessy Cranage is a hearty- 
looking lass; I dare say she'll come around again,. 
Joshua. Did anybody else go into fits?" (looks at 
Mrs. Irwine amused) 

Joshua — " No, sir — I canna say as they did. But 
there's no knowin' what'll come if we're t' ha' such 
preachin' as that a-goin on' ivery week; there'll be no 
livin' i' the village." 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, what's your advice, Joshua? 
What do you think should be done?" 

Joshua — "Your reverence, I'm not for takin' any 
measures agin' the young woman. She's Meester Poy- 
ser's own niece, and I donna wish to say what's any 
ways disrespectful o' th' family at th' Hall Farm, as 
I've measured for shoes little an' big, welly iver sin' 
I've been a shoemaker. She's well enough if she'd 
let preachin' alone; but Methodisses make folks be- 
lieve as if they take a mug o' drink extra, an' make 
theirselves a bit comfortable, they'll have to go to 
hell for't, an' I make no doubt if th' young woman 
keeps on preachin' she'll stir other folks up to thinkin' 
th' same way. She ha' already got Will Maskery t' 
her way o' thinkin'." 

Rev. Irwine — "Is Maskery preaching too ?" 

Joshua — "Nay, sir, he's no gift at stringin' th' 
words together wi'out th' book, but he's got tongue 
enough t' speak disrespectful aboot's neebors, an' what's 
worse, he's usin' the Bible t' find nicknames for folks 
as are his elders an' betters. I could bring them as 
'ud swear as he called me 'a blind Pharisee,' an' you, 
forgi'e me for sayin' such things over agin', 'a dumb^ 
dog an' a idle Shepherd.' " 



ADAM BEDE. II 

Rev. Irwine — "Let evil words die as soon as they 
are spoken, Joshua. If you can bring me any proof 
that Will Maskery annoys his neighbors or creates 
disturbance, I shall think it my duty as a clergyman 
and a magistrate, to interfere. But it wouldn't become 
wise people like you and me to make a fuss about 
trifles. We must live and let live, Joshua, in religion 
as well as in other things. You go on doing your 
duty as parish clerk and sexton as well as you've al- 
ways done it, and making those capital thick boots 
for your neighbors, and things won't go far wrong in 
Hayslope, depend upon it." 

Joshua — "Your reverence is good to say so; an' 
I'm sensible as you not livin' i' th' parish, there's more 
upo' my shoulders." 

Rev. Irwine — "I shall trust to your good sense to 
take no notice of what Will Maskery says, either of 
you or of me." (sits R. of table c.) "When you've done 
your day's work, you can go on taking your pot of 
beer soberly, just as you have always done, and if 
Will Maskery doesn't want to join you, but prefers to 
go to a prayer-meeting on the green, why, let hirn; 
that is no business of yours, so long as he doesn't hin- 
der you from doing what you like." 

Joshua — "Ah, sir! But when he comes to church, 
an' we're a singin', he sits an' shakes his head, till I 
should like to fetch him a rap across the jowl. — God 
forgi'e me, an' Mrs. Irwine, an' your reverence, too, 
for speakin' so afore you — but he said as our Christ- 
mas singin' was no better nor th' cracklin' o' thorns 
under a pot." 

Rev. Irwine — "It must be that he has no ear for 
music, Joshua. Never fear; he won't bring anyone 
else in Hayslope to his opinion." 

Joshua — "Yes, sir; but it turns a man's stomach t* 
hear th' scripture misused i' that way. I know as 
much o' th' words o' th' Bible as he does, an' could 
say the Psalms right through i' my sleep, if you was 



12 ADAM BEDE. 

to pinch me ; but I know better nor to take such words 
t' say my own say wi'." 

Rap at the door, voice heard calling out: 

"Godson Arthur, may he come in?" 

Mrs. Irwine — "Come in, come in, godson." 

Enter Arthur Donnithorne l. c. dressed in riding 
costume. 

Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, Arthur, welcome." (Arthur 
kisses Mrs. Irwine, shakes hands with Rev. Irwine.) 

Rev. Irwine — "Glad to see you, Arthur, and where 
did you drop from ?" 

Arthur — "From the Chase." {sits on edge of table 
c. ) "I couldn't stand being shut in the house a moment 
longer ; as soon as the rain stopped I ordered my horse 
for a canter. The roads are a bit heavy but, {turning 
for a chair sees Joshua) — don't let me interrupt 
Joshua's business — he has something to say." 

Joshua — "Belike sir, you hanna heard as Thias 
Bede's took to drinkin' bad again. If your reverence 
sees well and good, I hope you'll go an' labor wi' Thias, 
fur he's a dreadful sinner. He's a-slippin' away, fast." 

Rev. Irwine — "To be sure, Joshua, to be sure. 
I'll try and do what I can for him. And now good- 
morning, Joshua; go into the kitchen and have some 
ale." 

Joshua — "Thank your reverence. Good mornin', 
Mrs. Irwine, good mornin', Captain Donnithorne, good 
mornin', your reverence." {exit Joshua l. c. ) 

Rev. Irwine — "Poor old Thias. It's a pity that 
Adam should have this cross added to the load already 
on his shoulders. For the last five years he has been 
propping up his father from ruin." 

x'Vrthur — "Adam Bede is a trump!" {x's to fire) 
■"When I was a little fellow and Adam a strapping lad 



ADAM BEDE. 1 3. 

of fifteen he taught me carpentering, and I used to 
think if ever I was a rich Sultan, I would make Adam 
my grand vizier." 

Rev. Irwine — "And I believe he would stand the ex- 
altation as well as any poor wiseman in an eastern 
story." 

Arthur — "If ever I live to be a large-acred man, in- 
stead of a poor devil with a mortgaged allowance of 
pocket money, FU have Adam for my right hand. He 
shall manage my woods for me. He seems to have a 
better notion of those things than any man I ever met. 
I'm trying to persuade my grandfather to engage 
Adam in place of that miserable old Satchell, who un- 
derstands no more about timber than an old carp. But 
come, your reverence, (x's to table c. ) Are you for 
a ride with me? I want to call at the Hall Farm to 
look at the whelps Poyser is keeping for me." 

Mrs. Irwine — "You must stay and have a glass of 
wine first, Arthur. Carrol will bring it in directly." 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I want to go to the Hall Farm, 
too, I have some curiosity to have another look at 
Dinah Morris, the little Methodist who is staying 
there. Joshua tells me she was preaching on the green 
last night." 

Arthur — "Oh, by Jove ! was that Dinah Morris? I 
happened to be riding past and saw her. She looked 
like Saint Catherine in a Quaker dress. It's a type of 
face one rarely sees among our common people, (sits L. 
of table c. ) 

Mrs. Irwine — "If she is so attractive, I should like 
to see the young woman, Dauphin. Make her come 
here, on some pretext or other." * 

Rev. Irwine — "I don't see how I can manage that, 
mother ; it will hardly do for me, a church of England 
clergyman, to patronize a Methodist preacher. Be- 
sides, I doubt if she would consent to be patronized by 
an 'idle shepherd.' " 

Mrs. Irwine — "You should have come in a little 



14 ADAM BEDE. 

sooner, Arthur, to hear Joshua's denunciation of his 
neighbor. Will Maskery." 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, the old fellow wants me to ex- 
communicate the wheelwright and then deliver him 
over to the Civil arm — that is to say, to your grand- 
father, — to be turned out of house and yard." 

Mrs. Irwine — "It is really insolent of the man, 
though, to call you an 'idle shepherd and a dumb dog.' 
I should be inclined to check him a little. You're too 
easy-tempered, Dauphin." 

Rev. Irwine — "Why, mother, I'm not sure but he is 
right about it. I am a lazy fellow." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Tut, tut, Dauphin." 

Rev. Irwine — "Oh, but there's truth in it, mother. 
You can use your right arm quite well now, Arthur?" 

Arthur — "Yes, pretty well; but the doctor insists 
upon my keeping it up constantly for some time to 
come. Though I hope I shall be able to get away to 
the regiment in the beginning of August. It's a des- 
perately dull business being shut up at the Chase when 
one can neither hunt nor fish. However, we are to 
astonish the echoes on the 30th, when I come of age. 
Grandfather has given me carte blanche for once, and 
I promise you the entertainment shall be worthy of 
the occasion. I think I shall have a lofty throne built 
for you, godmother, (x's to Mrs. Irwine and stands 
by her chair) so that you may sit and look down 
upon us like an Olympian goddess." 

Mrs. Irwine — "And I mean to grace the occasion 
and bring out my best brocade that I wore at your 
christening twenty years ago. Ah, Arthur, (takes 
his hand and holds it) I think I see your poor mother 
flitting about in her white dress, which looked to me 
that very day almost like a shroud ; and it was her 
shroud only three months after ; and your little cap 
and christening dress were buried with her. She had 
set her heart on that, sweet soul. Arthur, thank God 
you take after your mother's fam^ily. If you had been 



ADA.VX BEDE. 1 5 

.,a puny, yellow baby, I wouldn't have stood godmother 
±o you." 

Rev. Irwine — "But you might have been a little too 
hasty, there, mother. Don't you remember how it 
was with Juno's last pups ? One of them was the very 
-image of its mother, but it has two or three of its 
father's tricks notwithstanding. Nature is clever 
enough to cheat even you, mother." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Nonsense, child. Nature never 
makes a ferret in the shape of a mastiff. You'll never 
persuade me that I can't tell what men are by their 
outsides. If I don't like a man's looks depend upon it 
I shall never like him. I don't want to know people 
that look ugly any more than I want to taste dishes 
that look disagreeable. If at the first glance they make 
me shudder, I say take them away. An ugly, fishy eye 
makes me feel quite ill, it's like a bad smell." 

Arthur — "Talking of eyes, reminds me that I have 
.a book of poems I meant to bring you, godmother. 
'The Ancient Mariner,' attracted me most, but I can 
hardly make head or tail of it as a story, it's a strange, 
striking thing. I'll send it over to you. By the way, 
your reverence, {x's to table c.) in a parcel that 
came down from London I found some pamphlets 
about Antinomianism and Evangelicalism, whatever 
they may be, would you like to have them ?" 

Rev. Irwine — ^"I don't know that I'm very fond of 
'isms,' but I may as well look at the pamphlets, they 
tet one see what is going on. If you had stuck to 
your books, you rascal, you would enjoy talking these 
things over with me." 

Mrs. Irwine — ^'Dauphin, Dauphin, you mustn't be 
severe with Arthur." 

Arthur — "Quite right, godmother, his reverence 
forgets that scholarship doesn't run in my family. I 
shall be satisfied if I remember enough Latin to adorn 
my maiden speech in Parliament." 

Rev. Irwine — ^"Arthur !" 

Arthur — "Will your reverence kindly tell me what 



1 6 ADAM BEDE. 

need a country gentleman has for knowledge of the 
classics? To my thinking, he would much better have 
a knowledge of fertilizers." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Godson Arthur ! Reflect, what are 
you saying?" 

Arthur — "Don't be alarmed, godmother, I've only 
come to the conchision that I should like to help the 
farmers in a better management of their lands. Take 
the Stonyshire side of the estate, — it's in a dismal con- 
dition — now I should like to set improvements on 
foot, and gallop about from place to place and over- 
look them. Know all the laborers and see them touch- 
ing their hats to me with a look of good will." 

Rev. Irwine — "Bravo, Arthur! You may not care 
for the classics, but you atone for that if you help raise 
the food required by those who do appreciate them. 
When you enter upon your career of model landlord, 
may I be there to see it." (rising.) 

Mrs. Irwine — "And when that day comes, mind, 
you fall in love with the right person; for if you get 
a wife who drains your purse, she'll make you nig- 
gardly in spite of yourself." 

Arthur — "Never fear, godmother, about my marry- 
ing while my grandfather lives. But come, your rev- 
erence, are you ready to start for the Hall Farm ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "In one moment, I've a little matter 
to attend to, and then I'll be ready to set out with you." 
(exit Rev. Irwine l. c.) 

Arthur — "Speaking of the Hall Farm. Have you 
seen Poyser's niece, Hetty Sorrel, godmother?" (sits 
r. of table c. ) 

Mrs. Irwine — "No, I don't remember that I have, 
is she pretty?" 

Enter Carrol l. c. with wine, passes it to each and 
exits. 

Arthur — "Pretty! she's a perfect Hebe; if I were 
an artist I would paint her." (strikes his boot with his 
whip.) 



ADAM BEDE, 1 7 

Mrs. Irwine — "Why, Arthur, you are enthusias- 
tic. You are quite sure that she appeals to you only 
in an artistic light ?" 
Arthur — "What do you mean, godmother?" 
Mrs. Irwine — "I mean you mustn't fill her little 
head with the notion that she's attractive to fine gentle- 
men, else you will spoil her for a poor man's wife." 

Voice of Rev. Irwine heard outside calling. 

Rev. Irwine — "I'm ready, Arthur, the horses are 

at the door." 

Arthur — "All right, your reverence. Good-bye, 

godmother." (kisses her.) 
Mrs. Irwine — "Come again soon, Arthur." 
Arthur — "Yes, Godmother." (going to door.) 
Mrs. Irwine — "Arthur! (calling him back) mind 

what I say, don't feed the girl's vanity." 

Arthur — "Never fear, godmother, never fear. 

Good-bye." 

End of scene first, act first. 



ACT FIRST— SCENE SECOND. 



The Hall Farm. Early Afternoon. The Kitchen, 
The Kitchen. 

Garden door upper r. outside door r. c. dairy 
DOOR l. c. Door leading into front part of house 
L. armchair by fire r. Cupboard at back between 
DOORS r. c. and l. c. Table l. Chairs s. and l. Iron- 
ing BOARD resting ON TWO CHAIRS R. BoWL OF STARCH 
STANDING ON THE END OF IRONING BOARD L. TUB OF 
WHEY SEEN STANDING IN DAIRY-WAY L. C. 



l8 ADAM BEDE. 

Discovered, Mrs. Poyser ironing r. Totty seated 
in a high chair at the end of ironing table with a min- 
iattire iron. Molly szveeping L. 

Totty — "Munny, my iron's twite told; pease put 
it down to warm." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Cold is it, my darling? Bless your 
sweet face." {kisses the child.) "Never mind, 
mother's done her ironing now. She's going to put 
the ironing things away." 

Totty — "Munny, I tould ike to doo into de barn to 
Tommy." 

Mrs. Poyser — "No, no, Totty 'ud get her feet wet. 
Run into the dairy and see cousin Hetty make the 
butter." 

Totty — "I tould ike a bit o' pum-take." (Mrs. 
Poyser turns aivay toward the fire. Totty upsets 
the bowl of starch on the ironing board.) "Oh, Munny, 
I'se spilted de starch." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Did anybody iver see the like? 
{running tozvards the table.) The child's allays i' 
mischief if your back's turned a minute. What shall 
I do to you, you naughty, naughty gell?" 

Totty exits hastily into the dairy l. c. Mrs. Poyser 
wipes up the starch. 

Molly — "I've finished sweeping ma'am, shall I go 
out to the barn and comb the wool for the whittaws 
till milking time ?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Comb the wool for the whittaws ! 
That's what you'd like to be doing is it? To think of 
a gell o' your age a-wanting to go and sit wi' half 
a dozen men !" 

Molly — "I'm sure I donna want t' go wi' th' 
whittaws, on'y we allays used to comb th' wool for'n at 
Master Ottley's; an' so I just axed ye." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Master Ottley's, indeed! It's fine 
talking o' what you did at Mr. Ottley's — and you 



ADAM BEDE. I9 

know no more o' what belongs to work when you 
come here, than the mawkin i' the field. And what 
are you standin' there for like a jack as is run down 
instead o' gettin' your wheel out?" (Molly goes 
tozvards door l. ) 

Enter Dinah Morris l. Molly stands aside for 
Dinah to enter, then exits door l. 

Dinah — "Don't be so hard on the girl, aunt, — she 
means to do right." {x's to c.) 

Mrs. Poyser — "Means to do right! She's as poor a 
two-fisted thing as ever I saw. My goodness, Dinah, 
{x's to Dinah c. ) how you do look the image o' your 
Aunt Judith. I could almost fancy it was thirty years 
ago, and I was a little gell at home looking at Judith 
as she sat at her work. Judith and me allays hung 
together, though she had such queer ways, but your 
mother and her never could agree. Your mother little 
thought as she'd have a daughter just cut out after 
the very pattern o' Judith, and leave her an orphan for 
Judith to take care on and bring up wi' a spoon when 
she was in the graveyard. I allays said that o' Judith, 
as she'd bear a pound weight any day, to save anybody 
else carrying a ounce." 

Dinah — "She was a blessed woman." 

Mrs. Poyser — "She was just the same from the 
first o' my remembering her; it made no difference in 
her as I could see, when she took to the Methodists. 
Only she talked a bit different and wore a different 
sort o' cap." 

Dinah — "And she was very fond of you, too. Aunt 
Rachel, {sits in chair l. of table l.) I've often heard 
her talk of you in a loving way. {takes tip sheet from 
table and begins sezving.) When she had that bad ill- 
ness and I was only eleven years old, she used to say, 
'If I'm taken away, Dinah, you'll find a friend in your 
Aunt Rachel, for she has a kind heart,' and I'm sure 
I've found it so." 



20 ADAM BEDE. 

Mrs. Poyser — "I don't know how a body could be 
anything but kmd to you, Dinah, (putting away iron- 
ing board upper l. corner) You know I'd ha' been 
glad to behave to you like a mother's sister if you'd 
come and live wi' us. Then you might get married to 
Seth Bede, and though he is a poor wool-gathering 
Methodist, as is never like to have a penny before- 
hand, I know your uncle 'ud help you with a pig, and 
very like a cow, for he'd do as much for you as he'd 
do for Hetty, though she's his own niece. And there's 
linen in the house as I could well spare you. There's a 
piece o' sheeting I could give you as that squinting 
Kitty spun, — she was a rare girl to spin, for all she 
squinted and the children couldn't abide her, — but 
where's the use o' talkin', if you wonna be persuaded 
to settle down i'stead o' wearin' yourself out wi' walk- 
ing and preaching and givin' away every penny you 
get. so as you've got notions i' your head about relig- 
ion more nor what's i' the Catechism and the Prayer- 
book." 

Dinah — "But not more than what's in the Bible, 
aunt." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, and the Bible, too, for that 
matter. Else why shouldn't them as know best what's 
in the Bible, — the parsons and the people as have no- 
thing to do but learn it the same as you do ? But for 
th' matter o' that, if everybody was to do like you, 
the world must come to a standstill, for if we're to de- 
spise th' things o' this world, as you say, I should like 
to know where th' pick o' th' stock an' th' corn an' th' 
best milk cheeses 'ud have to go? Everybody 'ud be 
wantin' bread made o' tail-ends, an' everybody 'ud be 
runnin' after everybody else to preach to 'em, i'stead 
o' bringin' up their families an' layin' by against a bad 
harvest." 

Dinah — "Nay, dear aunt, you never heard me say 
that all people are called to forsake their work and 
their families. It's quite right the land should be 
plowed and sowed, and the precious corn stored and 



ADAM BEDE. 21 

the things of this Hfe cared for, and right that people 
should rejoice in their families, and care for them. We 
are all servants of God wherever our lot is cast, but He 
gives us different kinds of work according as He fits 
us for it. I can no more help spending my life in try- 
ing to help others, than you can help running when 
you hear little Totty crying at the other end of the 
house." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Ah, I know it 'ud be just th' same if 
I was to talk to you for hours. You'd make me th' same 
answer at th' end. I might as well talk to th" running 
brook an' tell it to stan' still, {looking out the door 
R. c. ) If there is'nt Captain Donnithorne an' Mr. Ir- 
wine a-coming into th' yard. I'll lay my life they're 
comin' to speak about your preachin' on the green ; 
Dinah, it's you must answer 'em for I'm dumb ! I've 
said enough a'ready about your bringing such dis- 
grace upo' your uncle's family. I wouldn't ha" minded 
if you'd been Poyser's own niece ; folks must put up 
wi' their own kin as they put up wi' their own noses — 
it's their own flesh an' blood. But to think of a niece 
o" mine being cause o' my husband's being turned out 
o' his farm and me brought him no fortin' but my sav- 
in's — " 

Dinah — "Nay, Aunt Rachel, you have no cause for 
such fears. I've strong assurance that no evil will hap- 
pen to you and my uncle and the children, from any- 
thing I've done. I didn"t preach without direction." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Direction ! I know what you mean 
by direction. When there s a bigger maggot than usu- 
al in your head you call it direction, and then nothing 
can stir you. I canna ha' common patience wi' you." 
{advances to the door r. c. courtesying.) 

Enter Mr. Irwine and Captain Donnithorne, r. c. 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, Mrs. Poyser, how are you af- 
ter this stormy morning? Our feet are quite dry; we 
shall not soil your beautiful floor." 



22 ADAM BEDE. 

Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, don't mention it. Will you 
and the captain please to walk into the parlor ?" 

Arthur — "No, indeed, thank you, Mrs. Poyser, I 
delight in your kitchen, I think it's the most charming 
room I know. I should like every farmer's wife to 
come and look at it for a pattern." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, you're pleased to say so, sir; 
pray, take a seat." 

Arthur — "Is Poyser at home?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "No, sir, he isn't, he's gone to Ros- 
siter to see Mr. West, the factor, about the wool. But 
there's father in the barn, sir, if he'd be of any use ?" 

Arthur — "No, thank you; I'll just look at the 
whelps and leave a message about them with your 
shepherd. I must come another day and see your 
husband. Do you know when he's likely to be at 
home?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Why, sir, you can hardly miss him 
except on market-day, — that's of a Friday, you know ; 
for if he's anywhere on the farm, we can send for him 
in a minute. If we'd got rid o' th' Scantlands we 
should have no outlying fields ; an' I should be glad of 
it, for if iver anything happens, he's sure to be gone 
to the Scantlands. Things allays happens so con- 
trary if they've a chance ; and it's an unnat'ral thing 
to ha' one bit o' your farm in one county and all the 
rest in another." 

Arthur — "Yes, the Scantlands would go much bet- 
ter with Choyce's farm, especially as he wants dairy 
land and you've got plenty. But do you know, Mrs. 
Poyser, I think your farm is the prettiest on the es- 
tate, and if I were going to marry and settle down I 
should be tempted to turn you out and run the Hall 
Farm, myself." 

Mrs. Poyser — "O. sir, you wouldn't like it at all. As 
for farmin' it's puttin' money into your pocket wi' your 
right hand and fetchin' it out wi' your left. As fur as 
I can see, it's raisin' victuals for other folks, and just 
gettin' a mouthful for yourself and your children as 



ADAM BEDE. 23 

you go along. Not as you'd be like a poor man as 
wants to get his bread ; for you could afford to lose 
as much money as you liked wi' farmin', but it's poor 
fun losing money; though I understand it's what 
the great folks o' London play at moie than anything 
else. But you know more about that than I do, sir. 
As for farmin', sir, I canna think as you'd like it ; and 
this house — the draughts in it are enough to cut you 
through, and it's my opinion the floors upstairs are 
very rotten." 

Arthur — "Why, that's a terrible picture, Mrs. Poy- 
ser, I think I should be doing you a favor to turn you 
out of such a place. But there's no chance of that. 
I'm not likely to settle down for the next twenty years, 
till I'm a stout gentleman of forty ; and my grand- 
father would never consent to part with such good ten- 
ants as you and Poyser." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Well, sir, if your grandfather thinks 
so well of Mr. Poyser for a tenant I wish you'd put 
in a word for him to allow us some new gates for the 
Five Closes. My husband's been askin' an' askin' till 
he's tired ; an' to think o' what he's' done for the farm 
and never's had a penny allowed him, be the times bad 
or good. But as I've said to my husband often an' 
often, I'm sure if the captain had anything to do with 
it, it wouldn't be so. Not as I wish to speak disre- 
spectful o' them as have got th' power i' their hands, 
but it's more than flesh and blood 'ull bear sometimes, 
to be toiling an'strivin',up early an' down late, an' hard- 
ly sleepin' a wink for thinkin' as the cheese may swell, 
or the wheat may grow green again i' th' sheaf; an' 
arter all, at th' end o' th' year to be no better off, than 
if you'd been cookin' a feast an' had got th' smell o' it 
for your pains." 

Arthur — "I'm afraid I should only do harm instead 
of good if I were to speak about the gates, Mrs. Poy- 
ser, though I assure you there's no man on the estate 
I would sooner say a word for than your husband. I 
know his farm is in better order than any other within 



24 ADAM BEDE. 

ten miles of us ; and as for the kitchen, I don't believe 
there's one in the kingdom to beat it. {Hetty's laugh 
heard in the dairy l. c.) By the bye, I've never seen 
your dairy; I must see your dairy, Mrs. Poyser." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed, sir, it isn't fit for you to go 
into, for Hetty's in the middle o' makin' the butter, for 
the churning was thrown late an' I'm quite ashamed." 

Arthur — "Oh, I've no doubt it's in capital order. 
Take me in." (Arthur leads the zvay into the dairy 
L. c. Mrs. Poyser follozvs expostulating. ) 

(Mr. Irwine advances toivard Dinah l., ivho rises 
from chair.) 

Rev. Irwine — "You are only a visitor in this neigh- 
borhood, I think?" {motions Dinah to resume her 
seat. He sits opposite her at table l. ) 

Dinah — "Yea, sir, I come from Snowfield, in Stony- 
shire. I'd been ill and my aunt was very kind Vv'anting 
me to have a rest from my work there, and invited me 
to come and stay with her awhile." 

Rev. Irwine — "Ah, I remember Snowfield very 
well ; to my thinking it's a dreary, bleak place. I once 
had occasion to go there ; at that time they were build- 
ing a cotton mill ; but that's many years ago, now I 
suppose the place is a good deal changed." 

Dinah — "It is changed, sir, for the mill has brought 
many people there to get a livelihood. I work in it 
myself and have reason to be grateful, for thereby I 
have enough and to spare. But it is a bleak place as 
you say, sir, — very different from this country." 

Rev. Irwine — "You have relatives living there, 
probably, so that you are attached to the place as your 
home?" 

Dinah — "I had an aunt there once who brought 
me up. She was taken away seven years ago, and I 
have no other kindred that I know of, besides my 
Aunt Poyser, who would have me come and live in this 
countrv, — but I'm not free to leave Snowfield, for 



ADAM BEDE. 2^ 

there I was first planted, and have grown deep into it 
Hke the small grass on the hill-top." 

Rev^ Irwine — "Ah, I dare say, you have many re- 
ligious friends and companions there ; you are a Meth- 
odist, a Wesleyan, I think ?" 

Dinah — "Yea, my aunt at Snowfield belonged to 
the society." 

Rev. Irwine — "And have you been long in the habit 
of preaching ? — for I understand you preached at Hay- 
slope last night." 

Dinah — "I first took to the work four years since." 

Rev. Irwine — "Women's preaching is sanctioned 
then, by your society?" 

Dinah — "It doesn't forbid them, sir, when they've a 
clear call to the work. Mrs. Fletcher, as you may have 
heard about, was the first woman to preach in the soci- 
ety, and Mr. Wesley approved of her undertaking the 
work, for she had a great gift. There are many other 
women now who are helpers in the work, tb.o'igh I 
understand of late there's been voices raised against it 
in the society. I cannot but think their counsel will 
come to naught. It isn't for men to make channels 
for God's spirit as they make channels for the water 
courses, and say, flow here, but flow not there." 

Rev. Irwine — "But tell m.e. if I may ask, how you 
first came to think of preaching." 

Dinah — "Indeed, sir, I didn't think of it at all. I 
was led like a child, by a way that it knows not." 

Rev. Irwine — "Tell me the circumstances, just how 
it was, the very day you began to preach." 

Dinah — "It was one Sunday, and I walked with 
Brother Marlow, an aged preacher, to a village where 
there are lead mines and where the people live like 
sheep without a shepherd. It was summer time, and 
as we walked over the hills, I had a wonderful sense 
of the Divine Love. There are no trees there, you 
know, sir, and the heavens were stretched out like a 
tent and I felt the everlasting arms about me. It was 
-a long walk, and when we got to the village Brother 



26 ADAM BEDE. 

Marlow was seized with a dizziness that forced him to- 
lie down and he couldn"t stand up to preach. So I 
went to tell the people, thinking we'd go into one of 
the houses and I would read and pray with them. But 
as I passed the cottages and saw the aged, trembling 
women and the hard looks of the men who seemed to 
have their eyes no more filled with the sight of the 
Sabbath morning than if they had been dumb oxen, I 
felt a great movement in my soul and I trembled as 
if I was shaken by a strong spirit. I went to where the 
little flock of people was gathered together and stepped 
on the low wall that was built against the green hill- 
side, and I spoke the words that were given to me. 
They all came round me, and many wept over their 
sins and have since been joined to the Lord. This was 
the beginning of my preaching, sir, and I've preached 
ever since." (she stoops and gathers up her sezving.) 

Rev. Irwine — "And what did you think of your 
hearers last night? Did you find them quiet and at- 
tentive ?" 

Dinah — "Very quiet, sir. But I saw no signs of any 
great work upon them." 

Rev. Irwine — "Our farm laborers are not easily 
roused. They take life slowly. But we have some in- 
telligent workmen about here, the Bedes, for instance. 
By the by, Seth Bede is a Methodist." 

Dinah — "Yea, I know Seth well, and his brother 
Adam, a little. Seth is a gracious young man, sincere 
and without offense. And Adam is like the patriarch 
Joseph, for his great skill and the kindness he shows 
to his brother and parents." 

Enter Arthur Donnithorne, Mrs. Poyser and 
Hetty Sorrel l. c. 

Rev. Irwine (giving his hand to Dinah) — "Good- 
bye. I hear you are going away soon; but this will 
not be the last visit you will pay your aunt, — so we 
shall meet again, I hope." (x's to R.) 



ADAM BEDE. 27" 

Arthur — "I hope you will be ready for a great holi- 
day on the 30th, Mrs. Poyser. You know what is to 
happen then, and I shall expect you to be one of the 
guests who come earliest and stay latest. Will you 
promise me your hand for two dances, Miss Hetty? 
If I don't get your promise now, I know I shall hardly 
have a chance, for all the smart young farmers will 
take care to secure you." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed, sir, you're very kind to take 
that notice of her. An' I'm sure wheniver you're 
pleased to dance wi' her, she'll be proud an' thankful, 
if she stood still all the rest o' th' evening." 

Arthur — "Oh, no, no, that would be too cruel to all 
the other young fellows who can dance. But you will 
promise me two dances, won't you ?" 

Hetty — (courtesying with a coquettish glance) 
"Yes, thank you, sir." 

Arthur — "And you must bring all your children, 
you know, Mrs. Poyser ; your little Totty as well as the 
boys. I want all the youngest children on the estate 
to be there ; all those who will be fine young men and 
women when I'm a bald old fellow." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, dear sir, that'll be a long time 
first." 

Arthur — "But where is Totty to-day? I want to see 
her." 

Mrs. Poyser— "Where is the little 'un, Hetty ?" 

Hetty — "I don't know. She went into the brew 
house to Molly, I think. 

Mrs. Poyser exits hastily l. c. going l. Arthur 
and Hetty talk aside. Rev. Irwine x's back and 
speaks again zvith Dinah l. 

Arthur — "And do you carry the butter to market 
when you've made it?" 

Hetty — "Oh, no, sir, not when it's so heavy; I'm 
not strong enough. Alick takes it on horseback." 

Arthur — "No, I'm sure your pretty arms were 



28 ADAM BEDE. 

never meant for such heavy weights. But you go out 
walking sometimes these pleasant evenings, don't you ? 
Why don't you have a walk in the Chase grounds, now 
they are so green and pleasant ? I hardly ever see you 
anywhere except at church." 

Hetty — "Aunt doesn't like me to go a-walking 
alone. But I go through the Chase sometimes." 

Arthur — "You go to see Mrs. Best the house- 
keeper?" 

Hetty — "No, it isn't Mrs. Best, it's Mrs. Pomfret, 
the lady's-maid." 

Arthur — "Ah, yes, yes, I knevv^ I'd seen you at the 
Chase. She's teaching you something?" 

Hetty — "Yes, sir, the lace mending as she learned 
abroad, and the stocking mending — " 

Arthitr — "Do you come every week to see Mrs. 
Pomfret ?" 

Hetty — "Yes, sir, every Thursday." 

Arthur — "What time does Mrs. Pomfret expect 
you ?" 

Hetty — "Four o'clock sir, because that gives us 
time before Miss Donnithorne's bell rings." 

Arthur — "And do you always go up the beach ave- 
nue?" 

Hetty — "Most always, sir." 

Arthur — "You'll be likely to next Thursday?" 

Hetty — "Yes, sir." 

Arthur — "To-morrow I'm going to Eagledale for 
a day's fishing, but I shall be back by Thursday." 

Enter Mrs. Poyser ivith Totty l. c. Mr. Irwine 
x's to door R. c. and stands zvaiting for Arthur. 

Mrs. Poyser— "Here she is, sir." {leads Totty to 
Arthur. ) 

Arthur — "Well, well, (lifts the child and sets her 
on the arm of the arm chair r. holds on to her) as 
I live. What a fine child she is. By the way what's 
Tier other name? She wasn't christened Totty?" 



ADAM BEDE. 29- 

Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, we call her sadly out o' her 
name. Charlotte's her Christian name. We began 
by calling her Lotty, and now it's got to be Totty. To 
be sure it's more like a name for a dog than a Christ- 
ian child." 

Arthur — "Oh, no, Totty's a capital name. Why 
she looks like a Totty. Has she got a pocket on? 
(Totty lifts her apron and shows empty pocket.) 

Totty — "I dot notin' in it." 

Arthur — "No? What a pity! such a pretty pocket. 
Well I think I've got something in mine that will make 
a pretty jingle in yours. Yes, I declare I've got five 
little round silver things, and hear what a pretty noise 
they make in Totty's pink pocket." (Totty smiles, 
then jumps dozvn and goes to Hetty to have her 
hear the jingle. ) 

Mrs. Poyser — "Oh, for. shame, you naughty gell ! 
Not to thank the captain for what he's given you. I'm 
sure it's very kind of you, but she's spoiled shameful, 
her father won't say her nay in anything, an' there's 
no managing her. It's being the youngest, an' th' 
only gell, sir." 

Arthur — "Don't apologize, she's a nice little chick. 
I wouldn't have her different. But I must be going, 
the rector is waiting for me." 

Mrs. Poyser {to Rev. Irwine) — "I've never asked 
after Mrs. Irwine and the Misses Irwine. I hope 
they're as well as usual, sir?"' 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, thank you, Mrs. Poyser, except 
that Miss Annie has one of her bad headaches to-day. 
Let me thank you for that nice cream cheese you sent 
us. My mother enjoyed it especially." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I'm very glad, indeed, sir. It's but 
seldom I make one, but I remembered Mrs. Irwine was 
fond of 'em. Please to give my duty to her and to 
Miss Kate and to Miss x\nnie." (courtesies) 

Rev. Irwine — "Thank you — good-bye." 

Arthur — "Just ride on slowly, Irwine, I'll overtake 
you. {exit Rev. Irwine r. c.) I want to speak to 



30 ADAM BEDE. 

the shepherd about the whelps. Good-bye, Mrs. Poy- 
ser, tell your husband I shall come and have a long 
talk with him soon." (exit Arthur r. c.) 

Exit Hetty and Totty into garden upper r. Mrs. 
PoYSER courtesies and zvatches visitors from door. 

Mrs. Poyser — "Mr. Irwine wasn't angry then? 
What did he say to you, Dinah? Didn't he scold you 
for preachin' ?" 

Dinah — "No, he was very friendly. I was quite 
drawn out to speak to him. His countenance is as 
pleasant as the morning sunshine." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Pleasant! And what else did y' ex- 
pect to find him, but pleasant? It's summat like to 
see such a man as that i' the desk of a Sunday. As I 
say to Poyser, he's like a good meal o' victual — you're 
the better for him wi'out thinkin' on't. (x's to Dinah 
L.) But what did Mr. Irwine say to you about 
preachin" on the green?" 

Dinah — "He only said he'd heard of it; he didn't 
seem to feel any displeasure about it. But, dear aunt, 
don't think any more about that, (laying aside zvork) 
He told me something that will cause you sorrow as 
It does me. Thias Bede has taken to drink again. I'm 
thinking the aged mother may be in need of comfort. 
Perhaps I can be of use to her." (rises) 

Mrs. Poyser — "Dear heart, I'm quite willing you 
should go an' see th' old woman, for you're one 
as is allays welcome in trouble, Methodist or no 
Methodist,' but for th' matter o' that it's th' flesh an' 
blood folks are made on as makes th' difference. Some 
cheeses are made o' skimmed milk an' some o' new milk 
an' it's no matter what you call 'em, you may tell 
which is which by th' look an' th' smell. As for Thias 
Bede, he'd be better out o' the way nor in it." 

Dinah — "Nay, aunt, we must not judge." (exit 
•door L. ) 

Mrs. Poyser — (looking out of the door r. c.) "There 



ADAM BEDE. 3I 

■comes Poyser wi' gardener Craig. Poyser seems 
mighty fond of Craig; but for my part I think he's 
welly like a cock as thinks th' sun's rose o' purpose 
t' hear him crow." 

.Enter Mr. Poyser and Craig r. c. They stand in the 
door a moment and look out. 

Craig — ''Well, Meester Poyser, ye'U not be carry- 
ing your hay to-morrow I'm thinkin' ; ye may rely upo' 
my word as we'll ha' more downfall afore twenty-four 
hours is past. Ye see that darkish-blue cloud there 
upo' th' 'rizon — you know what I mean by th' 'rizon? 
where th' land an' sky seems t' meet?" 

Poyser — "Aye, aye, I see the cloud." 

Craig — "Well, you mark my words, as that cloud 
'ull spread o'er th' hull sky soon. It's a great thing to 
ha' studied th' look o' th' clouds. Lord bless you ! th' 
met'orological almanacs can learn me nothing, but 
there's a plenty o' things I could let them up to if 
they'd just come to me. (coining dozvn c.) An' how 
are you, Mrs. Poyser?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "As well as could be expected, Mr. 
Craig. Poyser, you just missed Captain Donnithorne 
an' Mr. Irwine, as called askin' for you." 

Poyser — "Did the captain leave any word?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, he said to tell you as he'd call 
again soon t' ha' a long talk wi' you." 

Craig — "Ah, there's a mon for you as is a mon ! 
Wi' such as Captain Arthur i' the army, a mon doesna 
need t' see fur to know as th' English 'ull beat the 
French. I know a mon as his father had a particular 
Icnowledge o' th' French, an' he says upo' good au- 
thority, as it's a big Frenchmon as reaches five feet 
high, for they live- upo' spoon-meat mostly. An wi' 
nothin' i' their insides, they pinch theirselves in wi' 
stays. Captain Donnithorne's arm's thicker nor a 
Frenchmon's body I'll be bound." 

Enter Dinah Morris l. with hat on. 



32 ADAM BEDE. 

Dinah — "Aunt, I'll be back before dusk." 
Exit Dinah r. c. Closes door after her. 

Craig — "Mrs. Poyser, your niece is a well-favored 
woman." {sits l. of table l. ) 

Mrs. Poyser — "If Dinah had a bit o' color in her 
cheeks, an' didn't stick that Methodist cap on her head, 
folks 'ud think her as pretty as Hetty." 

Poyser — "Nay, nay, thee dostna know th' pints of 
a woman. Th' men 'ud niver run after Dinah as they 
'ud after Hetty." {sits r. of table l.) 

Mrs. Poyser — "What care I what th' men 'ud run 
after? It's well seen what choice th' most of 'em know 
how to make, by th' poor draggle-tails o' wives you 
see, like bits o' gauze ribbin, good for nothing when 
th' color's gone." 

Poyser — "Well, well, thee canstna say but what I 
knowed how to make a choice when I married thee? 
and thee wast twice as buxom as Dinah, ten years 
ago." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I niver said as a woman had need to 
be ugly t' make a good missus of a house. There's 
Chowne's wife, ugly enough to turn th' milk an' save 
the rennet but she'll niver save anything any other 
way. She'd take a big cullender to strain her lard wi' 
an' then wonder as th' scratchin's run through." 

Knock at door r. c. Voice calls: 

"Mrs. Poyser, within?" 
Mrs. Poyser — {opens door) "Come in, Mr. Bede, 
come in." 

Enter Adam Bede. 

"Poyser, here's Mr. Bede." 

Poyser — "Why, to be sure — welcome, Adam, wel- 
come. I'm glad ye're come, sit ye down."^ 
Adam — "Good evening, Mr. Craig." 



ADAM BEDE. 33 

Craig — "Good evenin', Adam." 

Adam — "I came to see what your spinning wheel 
wants doing to it." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I've put it away in the right hand 
parlor ; but let be, till I can fetch an' show it you. 
Maybe you'd like a drink o' whey, first ? I know you're 
fond o' whey, as most folks is." (goes to tub l. c.) 

Adam — "Thank you, Mrs. Poyser, a drink o' whey's 
allays a treat to me. I'd rather have it than beer, any 
day." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, aye. (reaching a small zvhite 
cup hanging above the tub and dipping it into the ivhey 
tub) the smell o' bread's sweet t'everybody but the 
baker. The Misses Irwine allays say, 'O, Mrs. Poyser, 
I envy you your chickens, an' what a beautiful thing 
a farm-house is, to be sure.' An' I say, 'Yis, a farm- 
house is a fine thing, fur them as looks on an' don't 
know th' liftin' an' th' standin' an' th' worretin' o' th' 
inside, as belongs to it.' " 

Adam — "Why, Mrs. Poyser, you wouldn't like to 
live any place else but in a farm-house so well as you 
manage it? There can be nothing to look at pleas- 
anter nor a fine milch cow standing up to its knees in 
pasture, and the new milk, and the fresh butter ready 
for market and the calves and the poultry. Here's to 
your health, and may you allays have strength to look 
after your own dairy, and set a pattern t' all the farm- 
er's wives in the county." 

Mrs. Poyser — ''Have a little more, Mr. Bede?" 

Adam — "No, thank you. But where's Totty?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "She's outdoors wi' Hetty — I'd be 
glad now if you'd go into the garden an' tell Hetty to 
send Totty in. The child 'ull run in if she's told an' 
I know Hetty's lettin' 'her eat too many currants. I'll 
be much obliged to you, if you'd go an' send her in ; 
an' there's th' York an' Lancaster roses beautiful in 
th' garden now — you'll like to see 'em." 

Adam — "Anything to oblige you, Mrs. Poyser. 



34 ADAM BEDE. 

(going) I'll go into the garden and send the little 
lass in." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, do; an' tell her, mother says 
she's wantin' her this minute an' she mustna loiter." 
(Adam exits upper r.) 

Craig — "Adam Bede's a fine mon. An' he knows 
a fine sight more o' th' nature o' things than those who 
think theirselves his betters. He may be workin' 
fur wages now, but he'll be a master mon some day as 
sure as I sit i" this chair." 

Poyser — "Adam's sure enough, there's no fear but 
he'll yield well i' th' thrashin'. He's not one o' them as 
is all straw an' no grain. Master Burge is i' th' right 
on't, to want him to go partners in his business." 

Craig — "An' marry his daughter, if it be true what 
they say." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Indeed ! Adam is too smart to look 
at Mary Burge wi' her yellow face an' hair straight as 
a hank o' cotton." 

Craig — "Maybe, maybe — but the woman as does 
marry Adam 'ull have a good take, be't Lady-day or 
Michaelmas." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Ah, it's all very well for gells to want 
a ready-made rich man, but may happen he'll be a 
ready-made fool; an' it's no use fillin' your pocket 
full o' money if you've got a hole i' th' corner. I 
allays said I'd niver marry a man as had got no brains ; 
for where's the use o' a woman's havin' brains o' her 
own if she's tacked to a geek as everybody's laughin' 
at? She might as well dress herself fine to sit back- 
'ard on a donkey." 

Craig — "They say as Lisbeth, Adam's mother, ob- 
jects to his gettin' married ; doesna like young women 
about her." 

Poyser — "Eh, it's a poor lookout when th' old 
folks doesna like th' young 'uns." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, it's ill livin' in a hen-roost for 
them as doesna like fleas. We've all had our turn at 
bein' young, I reckon, be't good luck or ill." 



ADAM BEDE. 35 

PoYSER — "Come, Rachel, be'nt you forgettin' to 
offer Mr. Craig some o' your home brewed ale?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, I was forgettin'. Molly! 
Molly! (enter Molly l.) Go down an' draw some 
ale." (enter Totty upper r. ) 

ToTTY — "Did 'ou want me?" (exit Molly l. c. 
going L.). 

Mrs. Poyser — "Bless her sweet heart! (kisses her) 
mother allays wants her little pet. If Totty sits down 
like a good little gell an' keeps quiet (lifts her up on 
to the bench) she may have a sip o' ale from mother's 
mug." (exit Mrs. Poyser l. ) 

Craig — "Have vou heard any particular news to- 
day?" 

Poyser — "No, not as I remember." 

Craig — "Ah, they'll keep it close, they'll keep it 
close, I daresay. But I found it out by chance ; an' it's 
news that may concern Adam (pause) — Satchell's got 
a paralytic stroke. I found it out from the lad they 
sent to Treddleston for the doctor. He's a good way 
beyond sixty, you know, an' it's much if he gets over 
it.''' 

Poyser — "Well, I daresay there'd be more rejoicin' 
than sorrow i' th' parish at his bein' laid away ; for 
he's been a selfish talebearin' fellow. Though it's th' 
squire himself as is to blame — hirin' a stupid mon 
like that to save th' expense o' a proper steward to 
look arter the estate. When Satchell's laid on the 
shelf maybe the squire'll put a better mon in his place, 
but I donna see how it 'ud make any difference to 
Adam." 

Craig — "But I see it, I see it. Captain Arthur's 
comin' o' age now an' it's to be expected he'll ha' a 
little more say o' things. And I know, an' you know, 
too, what 'ud be th' captain's wish aboot the woods, if 
there was a fair opportunity fur makin' a change. He's 
said in plenty o' people's hearin' that he'd make Adam 
manager o' th' woods to-morrow if he'd the poo'er." 



36 ADAM BEDE. 

Enter Mrs. Poyser l. carrying spinning wheel. She 
places it r. 

Mrs. Poyser — "'What a time that gell is draw- 
in' th' ale. I think she sets th' jug under an' forgets 
to turn the tap, as there's nothing you can't believe o' 
them gells; they'll set th' empty kettle o' the fire an' 
then come an hour arter to see if the water boils." 

Poyser — "She's likely drawin' for the men, too. 
Thee should'st ha' told her to bring our jug up first." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Told her? yis, J might spend all the 
wind i' my body an' take the bellows, too, if I was to 
tell them gells everything as their own s'harpness 
wonna tell 'em." {enter Molly l. c. carrying a large 
jug, two small mugs and four drinking cans full of 
beer) Molly, I niver knew your equals, th' times an' 
times I've told you. (Molly catches foot in her apron 
•and falls) There you go! It's what I told you'd 
come, over an' over again. Th' crockery you've broke 
sin' you've been in th' house 'ud make a parson swear. 
God forgi' me for sayin' so ; anybody 'ud think you'd 
got the St. Vitus's dance to see th' things you've 
throwed down, (wiping up beer from floor) It's 
a pity th' bits wasna stacked up for you to see, though 
it's neither seein' nor hearin' as 'ull make much odds 
to you. (Molly begins to cry) Ah, you'll do no 
good wi' cryin' an' making more wet to wipe up. 
(opening the cupboard door) An' here I must take 
the brown an' white jug as hasna been used this three 
years." 

Enter Adam carelessly carrying a rose in his hand, 
and Hetty ivearing one of Dinah's caps upper r. 
Mrs. Poyser startled at Hetty's appearance, jug slips 
from her Angers and breaks. 

Mrs. Poyser — "Did iver anybody see the like?* It's 
them nasty glazed handles — they slip o'er the finger 
like a snail." 



ADAM BEDE. 37 

PoYSER — "Why, thee'st let thy own whip fly i' thy 
face." 

Mrs. Poyser — "It's all very fine to look on an' grin 
— Hetty, are you mad? whativer do you mean by 
coming i' that way an' makin' one think as there's a 
ghost a-walking i' th' house?" 

PoYSER — "Why, Hetty, lass, are ye turned Meth- 
odist? You mun pull your face a deal longer afore 
you'll do for one. How come ye to put th' cap on?" 

Hetty — "Adam said he liked Dinah's looks, an' 
when I found one o' her caps bleachin' on the grass I 
put it on. He says folks look better in ugly clothes." 

Adam — "Nay, nay, I only said they seemed to suit 
Dinah, (aside) But if I said you'd look pretty in 
'em I should ha' said nothing but what was true." 

Poyser — "Why, Rachel, thee thought'st Hetty war 
a ghost, didstna? Thee look'dst as scared — " 

Mrs. Poyser — "It little sinnifies how I looked! It 
little becomes anybody i' this house to make fun o' 
my sister's child, they'd be better if they could make 
theirselves like 'her i' more ways nor puttin' on her 
cap." (exit Mrs. Poyser with Totty into dairy l. c.) 

Poyser — "You'd better take the cap off, my lass, it 
hurts your aunt to see it." 

Craig — "Well, Poyser, I mun be gettin' on. 
(rising) 

Poyser — "Donna be in a hurry, Craig." 

Craig — "Thank ye, but I mun go on to see Meester 
Massey he wasna at church last Sunday, an' I ha' na 
seen him for a week past. — Good evenin', Hetty, good 
evenin', Adam." 

Adam — "Good-evening, Mr. Craig." (exit Craig 
r. c.) 

Poyser looks at Adam and Hetty and exits into 
dairy l. c. Hetty sits r. of table l. Adam lays down 
the rose carefully and examines the spimmtg wheel r. 

Adam — "Ah, here's a nice bit o' turning wanted. 



38 ADAM BEDE. 

It's a pretty wheel. I must have it up at the turn- 
ing shop i' th' village and do the work there, (looking 
for a moment at Hetty) I've been thinking it over 
in my mind to make it a bit more convenient for doing 
nice jobs o' cabinet-making at home. I look for me 
and Seth to get a little business for ourselves i' that 
way. I've allays done a deal o' such little things in 
odd hours and they're profitable, for there's more work- 
manship, nor material in 'em." 

Hetty — "Yes, you might be gettin' rich some day. 
(pause) Have you ever been to Eagledale?" 

Adam — "Yes, ten years ago, when I was a lad, I 
went with father to see about some work there. It's 
a wonderful sight — rocks and caves, such as you never 
saw in your life. I never had a right notion o' rocks 
till I went there." 

Hetty — "How long did it take to go?" 

Adam — "The best part o' two days, walking; but 
it's nothing of a day's journey for anybody as has got 
a first-rate nag. Captain Arthur goes there a-iishin' 
sometimes, (pause) 1 wish th' captain'd got th' es- 
tate in his hands ; that 'ud be the right thing for him, 
for it 'ud give him plenty to do, and he'd do it well, 
too, for all he's so young; he's got better notions o' 
things than many a man twice his age. (pause) He 
spoke very handsome to me th' other day about lend- 
ing me money to set up i' business ; and if things 
come round that way I'd rather be beholden to him 
nor to any man i' the world, (leaving the zvheel) If 
your avmt 'ull send the wheel to Mr. Burge's shop 
i' the morning, I'll get it done for her by Saturday." 

Hetty — "Thank you, Adam, I'll tell her." (rises) 

Adam (taking up the rose) — "How pretty the roses 
are now. See, I stole the prettiest, but I didna mean 
to keep it myself. I think these as are pink and have 
got a finer sort o' green leaves are prettier than the 
striped 'uns. don't you ?" 

Hetty — "Yes, maybe." 

Adam — ^Tt smells sweet, the striped 'uns have no 



ADAM BEDE. 39 

smell. Stick it in your frock and then you can put 
it in water after. It 'ud be a pity to let it fade. (Hetty 
takes the rose and coquettishly puts it in her hair above 
the left ear) Ah, that's like the ladies in the pictures 
at the Chase; only they've mostly got flowers or 
feathers, or gold things i' their hair, but somehow I 
don't like to see 'em ; they allays put me i' mind o' the 
painted women outside the shows at Treddles'on fair. 
What can a woman have to set her ofT better than her 
own hair, when it curls so like yours? K a woman's 
young and pretty, I think you can see her good looks 
all the better for her being plain-dressed. It seems 
to me as a woman's face doesna want flowers. I'm sure 
yours doesna. It's like a flower itself." 

Hetty — "Do you think so?" (laughs as though not 
quite understanding. ) 

Adam — "Yes, I like to see you just as you are now; 
when a man's singing a good tune, he doesna want t' 
hear bells tinkling and interfering wi' the sound." 

Hetty — "O, Adam, what queer things ye do say." 

Adam — "But it's getting near supper time, it'll be 
pretty near six before I'm at home. And mother may 
happen to be waiting for me, she's more fidgety nor 
usual now. Good-night, Hetty." 

Hetty — "Good-night, Adam. You'll come again 
soon ?" 

Adam — "Yes, good-night." (exit Adam r. c.) 

Enter Mr. Poyser from dairy l. c. 

Poyser — "Has Adam gone ?" 

Hetty— "Yes." 

Poyser — (pause, gets his tobacco and pipe from 
shelf above fire-place) If you can catch Adam for 
a husband, Hetty, you'll ride i' your own spring cart 
some day, I'll be your warrant. Ye'll not find many 
men o' six and twentv as '11 do to put i' the shafts wi' 
him." 



40 ADAM BEDE. 

Hetty moves azvay pettishly toward r. c. and tosses 
her head. Poyser thoughtfully lights his pipe. 



Curtain. 



ADAM BEDE. 4 1 



ACT SECOND. SCENE FIRST. 



In THE WOOD. Late Afternoon. Near the Chase. 

Stump or log at r. of stage. 

Enter Arthur Donnithorne l. zvith book under 
his arm. 

Arthur — "I wonder if she'll go home this way? 
I'd like to see her if she does. Pooh ! What an idiot I 
am. {sits r.) What does it concern me whether Hetty 
Sorrel walks this way or not? (pause) But whv 
shouldn't I treat the little thing kindly ? —She's a 
beauty and no mistake. Perhaps, I would better take 
no more notice of her; it may put notions into her 
head, as Mrs. Irwine thinks. By Jove ! there she comes 
now. Tripping along in her bright colors she looks 
like a bird among the boughs." 

Enter Hetty Sorrel r. zvith a o:i:;ket on her arm. 
Courtesies to Arthur. 

Arthur — "You are quite right to choose this way 
of going and coming from the Chase. It is so much 
prettier as well as shorter than by either of the lodges." 

Hetty — "Yes, sir." 

Arthur — "Did you learn anything from Mrs. Pom- 
fret this afternoon ?" 

Hetty — "Yes, sir : she says as I'm doing fine, and in 
a few more lessons I'll be able to mend lace as well 
as she can." 



42 ADAM BEDE. 

Arthur — "Really? You must be an apt pupiL 
Though for that matter no one could look at those 
bright eyes of yours and think to the contrary." 

Hetty — "She's teaching me cutting out, too." 

Arthur — "What, are you going to be a lady's 
maid?" 

Hetty — "I should like to be one." 

Arthur — "I suppose your aunt will be on the look- 
out and expecting you home about this time, won't 
she?" 

Hetty — "Yes, sir." 

Arthur — "Ah, then I must not keep you now, else 
I should like to show you The Hermitage. Did you 
ever see it?" 

Hetty — "No, sir." 

Arthur — "It's my den, where I go when I want 
to get away from everybody, to read and write and 
study. This is the walk where we would turn up to 
it. But we must not go now. Some other time I'll 
show it to you if you'd like to see it?" 

Hetty — "Yes, please, sir." 

Arthur — "Do you always come back this way in 
the evening, or are you afraid to take so lonely a road ?" 

Hetty — "Oh, no, sir, it's never late; I allays set 
out by eight o'clock and it's so light now in the even- 
ing. My aunt 'ud be very cross wi' me if I didn't get 
home before nine." 

Arthur — "Perhaps, Craig, the gardener, comes to 
take care of you?" 

Hetty — "I'm sure he doesna; I'm sure he never did; 
I wouldn't let him. I don't like him." (tears of vex- 
ation come to her eyes.) 

Arthur — "Why, Hetty, what makes you cry? I 
didn't mean to vex you. I wouldn't vex you for the 
world, you little blossom — (playfully pinches her arm) 
come, don't cry. Look at me, else I'll think you won't 
forgive me. (Hetty drops her basket) Has some- 
thing frightened you, Hetty ? Have you seen anything 
in the wood? Don't be frightened, — I'll take care of 



ADAM BEDE. 43 

you, now. Come, be cheerful again. Smile at me and 
tell me what is the matter. Come, tell me." 

Hetty (softly) — "I thought you wouldn't come." 

Arthur — "You little frightened bird! (puts his arm 
around her and kisses her.) Little tearful rose! Silly 
pet ! You won't cry again now I'm with you, will you ?" 

Hetty— "No." 
. Arthur — "I wish I could always hold you in my 
arms tight, just like this. Would you like me to, 
Hettv?" 

Hetty (softly) — "Yes." 

Arthur — "You would, eh? (kisses her again) You 
sweet wild rose ! You're coming to my birthday feast 
on the 30th, aren't you ?" 

Hetty— "Yes." 

Arthur — "And you'll give me the dances I've asked 
for?" 

Hetty — "Yes." 

Arthur — "If you don't, I shall be the most miserable 
man in the world, (siarfs) What's that? There's 
some one coming ! You go back towards the Chase as 
if you'd forgotten something. I'll go this way. Till 
to-morrow." (exits hastily l.) 

Enter Dinah Morris and Seth Bede r. Hetty 
starts back toivard the Chase r. 

Dinah — "Why, Hetty, where is thee going?" 

Hetty — "Back to the Chase." 

Dinah — "Hurry, child, and I will wait for thee here. 
It is growing late." (exit Hetty r.) "Hetty must 
have forgotten something. She's been at the Chase 
this afternoon. Mrs. Pomfret, the lady's-maid, has a 
kind heart and is teaching the child to make lace."^ 
(sits R. Seth x's to l. ) 

Seth — "You've quite made up your mind to go 
back to Snowfield, Dinah?" 

Dinah — "Yea. I'm called there. It was borne in 
upon my mind on Sunday as Sister Allen, who's in a 
decline, is in need of me." 



44 ADAM BEDE. 

Seth — "Hast heard from her, Dinah?" 

Dinah — "By a vision, yea, I saw her as plain as 
we see that bit of white cloud yonder. She was lifting 
up her poor, thin hand and beckoning to me. And 
this morning when I opened the Bible for direction the 
first words my eyes fell on were, 'And after he had 
seen the vision, immediately we endeavored to go 
into Macedonia.' If it wasn't for that clear showing 
of the Lord's will I should be loath to go, for my heart 
yearns over my aunt and her little ones and Hetty 
Sorrel. I've been much drawn out in prayer for Hetty 
of late, and I look on it as a token that there may be 
mercy in store for her." 

Seth — "God grant it. For I doubt Adam is so set 
on her he'll never turn to anybody else;, and if he was 
to marry her, I canna think as she'd make him happy. 
It's a deep mystery — the way a man's heart turns to 
one woman out of all the rest he's seen i' the world, 
and makes it easier for him to work seven year for 
her, like Jacob did for Rachel, sooner than have any 
other woman for the asking. After what you told me 
o' your mind last Saturday, mayhappen you'll think 
me over bold to speak to you about it again, but I've 
been thinking it over by night and by day, and it seems 
to me diere's more texts for your marryin' than ever 
you could find against it. For St. Paul says as plain as 
can be, 'I will that the .younger women marry,' 
(quickly) an' two are better than one, Dinah, an' that 
holds good wi' marriage as well as wi' other things. 
We should be o' one heart and o' one mind, an' I'd 
never be the husband to make a claim on you as 'ud in- 
terfere wi' your work. I'd make a shift and fend in- 
door and out, to give you more liberty — more than you 
have now, and I'm strong enough to work for us both." 

Dinah — (pause) "Seth Bede, I thank thee for thy 
love toward me, and if I could think of any man as 
more than a Chistian brother, it would be you. When 
I first saw as your love was given to me, I thought it 
might be a leading of Providence for me to change my 



ADAM BEDE. 45 

way of life, and that we should be fellow helpers, but 
whenever I tried to fix my heart on our living together, 
other thoughts always came in — thoughts of the sick 
and dying. And so I see that I have been called to 
minister to others, and not to have joys and sorrows 
of my own." 

Seth — "Dinah, perhaps, I oughtn't to feel for any 
creature as I feel for you, for I can't help saying of 
you what the hymn says, 'She is my soul's bright 
morning star.' That may be V\-rong, and I'm to be 
taught better, (pause) You wouldn't be displeased wi' 
me if things turned out so as I could leave this country 
an' go to live at Snowfield, an' be near you?" 

Dinah — "No, but I counsel you not to leave your 
own country and kindred lightly. We mustn't be in 
a hurry to choose our own lot." 

Seth — "There is no knowin' but what you may see 
things different after awhile. There may be a new 
leading?" 

Dinah — "Let us leave that, Seth. It is good to live 
only a moment at a time. It isn't for you and me to 
lay plans; we've nothing to do but to obey and to 
trust. Good-bye." 

Seth — "Good-bj-e. (going l.) You'd let me write 
you a letter, Dinah, if there was anything I wanted to 
tell you ?" 

Dinah — "Yea. and you'll be continually in my 
prayers. Farewell." 

Seth — "Farewell, Dinah." (exit Seth l.) 

Enter Hetty r. 

Dinah — "I'm glad you've come, Hetty, it's time 
we were at the Hall Farm. (Dinah takes Hetty's 
hand and drazvs it under her ozvn arm) Dear child, 
how happy you look. I shall think of you often when 
I'm at Snowfield, and see your face before me as it 
is now. It's a strange thing — sometimes when I'm 
alone in my room or walking over the hills, the people 



46 ADAM BEDE. 

I've known are brought before me, and I hear their 
voices and see their looks. And I am sure that you 
will come before me, for I feel strongly drawn to you. 
If you are ever in need of a friend, Hetty, come to 
Dinah Morris at Snowfield." 

Hetty — "Why should you think of trouble comin' 
to me." 

Dinah — "Because, dear, trouble comes to us all in 
this life, and then we need friends." 

Hetty — "Oh, yes — Have you been over to the 
Bede's again to-day?" 

Dinah — "Yea. It has been very precious to me 
seeing two such good sons as Adam and Seth Bede. 
Mrs. Bede has been telling me what Adam has done 
for these many years to help his father and his brother. 
It's wonderful what a spirit of wisdom he has, and 
how he's ready to use it in behalf of them that are 
feeble. And I'm sure he has a loving spirit, too. Don't 
you think so, Hetty?" 

Hetty — "Yes I suppose he has." 

Dinah — "But come, Hetty, dear, we must not give 
aunt cause for worriment." 

Exit Dinah and Hetty l. 

End of Scene First, Act Second. 



ACT SECOND. SCENE SECOND. 



The Birthday Feast. Afternoon. 

The Chase Lawn. 

Before and at rise of curtain bells heard ring- 
ing. Bunting and flags hung about. 



adam bede. 47 

Villagers and tenants moving about the stage. 

The Chase Lawn. 
Raised dais erected r. on which rests elaborate 

■GOLD CHAIR. TaBLE L. SLIGHTLY RAISED FROM FLOOR. 

Table down r. Table c. at back. All the tables 
decorated and bright with cut glass and silver 

and FLOWERS. SmALL TABLE NEAR DAIS ON WHICH 
ARE PILED NEATLY WRAPPED PACKAGES. 

Enter Mr. and Mrs. Poyser, old Martin Poyser, 
ToTTY and Hetty l. 

Mrs. Poyser — "Why, the Chase is like a fair. I 
shouldna ha' thought there was so many people i' th' 
two parishes. Massey on us, how hot it is ! Come 
here, Totty, keep i' the shade else your little face 'ull 
be burned to a scratchin'. They might ha' cooked the 
dinner i' that open space an' saved the fires. Father, 
there's Mr. Taft, dost remember him?" 

Old Poyser — "Aye, aye, I remember Jacob Taft 
walkin' fifty mile arter the Scotch reybels, when they 
turned back from Stoniton. {goes tozvard Taft. 
shouts in his ear) Well, Meester Taft, you're hearty 
yit. You can enjoy yoursen to-day, for all your ninety 
an' better." 

Taft — "Your sarvent, Meester Poyser, your sarv- 
ent." (they move aside) 

Enter Adam, Seth and Lisbeth Bede l. 

Mills (to Adam) — "Beg pardon, sir, Captain Don- 
nithorne's compliments and it is his particular wish 
that you dine with the large tenants to-day." (Mills 
moves aside.) 

Adam (to Seth) — "Seth, lad, the captain has sent 
word as I'm to sit with the large tenants, he wishes it 
particular, the butler says; I suppose it 'ud be be- 



48 ADAM BEDE. 

havin' ill for me not to do it. I don't like sitting above 
thee and mother, though, as if I was better than my 
own flesh and blood. Thee't not take it unkind, I 
hope?" 

Seth — "Nay, nay, Adam, thy honor's our honor; 
and if thee gets respect thee'st won it by thy own de- 
serts. It's because o' thy being appointed over the 
woods, thee't above a common workman now." 

Adam — "Aye, but nobody knows a word about it 
yet. People 'ull be wondering to see me there, and 
they'll like enough be guessin' the reason, and askin' 
questions." 

Seth — "Well, thee canst say, thee wast ordered to 
come wi'out being told the reason. That's the truth. 
Mother 'ull be fine and joyful about it, I'll go and tell 
her." (goes to Lisbeth) 

Mills (c.) — "Ladies and gentlemen." 

From the crowd — "Hear ! hear !" 

Mills — "Captain Donnithorne's best wishes and will 
you please take your places at table." {croivd begin sit- 
ting at tables, except at table slightly raised from the 
fiOor l. Mrs. Poyser, Ketty and Totty, Lisbeth 
Bede and Seth Bede sit at tabic r. ) 

Adam {to Craig) — "Well, Mr. Craig, I'm going to 
sit with you to-day; the captain's sent me orders." 

Craig — "Ah, then there's somethin' i' th' wind, 
there's somethin' i' the wind. Ha' you heard anything 
about what the old squire means to do?" 

Adam — "I'll tell you what I know if you'll promise 
to keep a still tongue in your head?" 

Craig — "Trust ta me, my boy, trust ta me. I've got 
na wife to worm it out o' me an' thin run out an' 
cackle it i' iverybody's hearin'. If you trust a mon, 
let him be a bachelor — let him be a bachelor." 

Adam — "Well, then, it was settled yesterday that 
I'm to take the management o' th' woods. But if any- 
body asks questions just you take no notice, an' turn 
th' talk to something else." 

Craig — "I know what to do, niver fear. The news 



ADAAI BEDE. 49 

'ull be good sauce to my dinner, though. Mark what 
I tell you, ye'll get on." (they go tozvards table l. zvhere 
the crozvd are unable to decide about places. ) 

Casson — "It stands to sense, as old Mr. Poyser, as 
the old mon should sit at the top o' th' table." 

Old Poyser — "Nay, nay, I'm gi'en up to my son; 
I'm no tenant now; let my son take my place. The 
ould folks ha' hadtheir turn; they mun make way for 
the young" 'uns." 

Craig — "I should ha' thought the biggest tenant 
had the best right more nor the eldest. There's Mees- 
ter Holdsworth has more land nor anybody else on th' 
estate." 

Poyser — "Well, suppose we say the mon wi' the 
foulest land* shall sit at top; when whoiver gets th' 
honor, there'll be no envyin' on him." 

Craig — "Eh, here's Meester Massey, the schoolmas- 
ter ought to be able to tell what's right. Who's to sit 
at the top of the table, Meester Massey?" 

Massey — "Why, the broadest man; and then he 
won't take up other folks' room; and the next broad- 
est must sit at bottom." {laughter and confusion of 
taking places.) 

Craig — "Well, Meester Massey, who air the broad- 
est men?" 

Massey — "Martin Poyser, the younger, to be sure. 
He must sit at head o' table and Mr. Casson at the 
bottom." 

Craic — "Nay, Adam Bede m.ust sit at bottom. He's 
broader nor Meester Casson." 

Massey — "True, Adam Bede must sit at bottom." 

(All sit, Martin Poyser at head, Adam Bede at bot- 
tom of table. Casson provoked that he is supplanted 
by Adam ) 

Casson — "Well, Mr. Bede, you're one o' them as 
mounts hup'ards apace. You've niver dined wi' th' 
large tenants afore as I remember?" 



50 ADAM BEDE. 

Adam — "No, Mr. Casson, I've never dined here be- 
fore — but I come by Captain Donnithorne's wish, and 
I hope it's not disagreeable to anybody here?" 

Several voices — "Nay, nay, we're glad ye're come. 
Who's got anything to say agin' it?" 

Massey — "You'll sing us 'Over the hills and far 
away,' after dinner, won't you Mr. Casson? That's a 
song I'm uncommonly fond of." 

Craig — "Peeh ! It's not to be named beside o' the 
Scotch tunes. I've niver cared much about singin' 
myself, but a second cousin of mine, a drovier, was a 
rare hand at rememberin' th' Scotch tunes. He'd got 
nothin' else to think on." 

Casson — "The Scotch tunes ! I've heard enough o' 
them Scotch tunes to last me while I live. They're fit 
fur nothin' but to frighten th' birds with — that's to say, 
the English birds, fur the Scotch birds may sing Scotch, 
fur what I know." (laughter) 

Craig — "Yes, there's folks as find a pleasure in 
iindervalying what they know little about." 

Hetty (at the other table) — "O, aunt, I wish you'd 
speak to Totty, she keeps puttin' her legs up so, and 
messin' my frock." 

Mrs. Poyser — "What's the matter with the child? 
She can niver please you. Let her come up by th' side 
o 'me, I can put up wi' her." (Totty changes her place 
to her mother) 

Benefit Club Band heard playing Hail to the 
Chief, r. 

Mrs. Poyser — "The captain's comin' ! I hope Poy- 
ser won't get tripped up wi' his speech o] welcome and 
stop i' th' middle, like a balky horse." 

Enter Benefit Club Band r. folloived by Arthur 
DoNNiTHORNE and Rev. Adolphus Irwine. Arthur 
dressed in full regimentals. Clapping of hands, waving 
of handkerchiefs, and general demonstrations of good 
feeling for Arthur. 



ADAM BEDE. 5 1 

Arthur (c.) — "My grandfather and I hope all our 
friends here are enjoying their dinner and find my 
birthday ale good. Mr. Irwine and I are come to 
taste it with you." 

Mr. Povser rises deliberately, with his hands in 
his pockets. 

PoYSER — "Captain, my neighbors ha' put it upo' me 
to speak for 'em to-day, for where folks think pretty 
much alike, one spokesman's as good as a score. And 
though we've mayhappen got contrairy ways o' think- 
in' about a many things — this I'll say, as we're all o' 
one mind about our young squire. We've pretty nigh 
all on us known you when you war a little 'un an' 
we've niver known anything on you but what was good 
an' honorable. You speak fair an' y' act fair, an' we're 
joyful when we look forrard to your bein' our land- 
lord, for we believe you mean to do right by ivery- 
body, an' 'ull make no man's bread bitter to him if you 
can help it. That's what I mean, an' that's what we all 
mean; an' when a man's said what he means he'd 
better stop, fur th' ale 'ull be none the better fur stan- 
nin'. And I'll not say how we like the ale yit, for we 
warna goin' to taste it till we'd drunk your health in 
it; but the dinner is good, an' if there's anybody isna 
enjoyin' it, it rrtust be the fault o' his own inside. An' 
as fur the rector's company, it's well known as that's 
welcome t' all the parish wheriver he may be; and I 
hope as he'll live to see us old folks, an' our children 
grown to men and women, an' your honor a man o' 
family. I've no more to say as concerns the present 
time, an' so we'll drink our young squire's health — 
tliree times three!" (Shouting, rapping, a jingling of 
glasses, etc.) 

Arthur — "I thank you all, my good friends and 
neighbors, for the good opinion of me and the kind 
feelings which Mr. Poyser has been expressing on your 
behalf and on his own. It will always be my heartiest 



52 ADAM BEDE. 

wish to deserve them. If I hve, we may expect that I 
shall one day be your landlord. It hardly becomes a 
man of my age to talk about farming to you, who are 
most of you so much older, and men of experience; 
still I have interested myself in such matters and 
learned as much about them as my opportunities have 
allowed ; and when the course of events shall place the 
estate in my hands it will be my first desire to afford 
my tenants all the encouragement a landlord can give 
them. It will be my wish to be looked on by all my 
tenants as their best friend, and nothing would make 
me so happy as to be able to respect every man on the 
estate, and in return, to be respected by him. I meet 
your good hopes concerning me by telling you that my 
own hopes correspond to them — that what you expect 
from me I desire to fulfill ; and I am quite of Mr. 
Poyser's opinion that when a man has said what he 
means he would better stop. But the pleasure I feel 
in having my own health drunk by you would not be 
perfect if we did not drink the health of my grand- 
father, who has filled the place of both father and 
mother to me. I will say no more until you have 
joined me in drinking his health." (all drink.) 

Mrs. Poyser — "The captain had better not ha' 
stirred a kettle o' sour broth. I'll not drink to the old 
man's health." 

Arthur — "I thank you, both for my grandfather 
and for myself; and now there is one thing more I 
wish to tell you, that you may share my happiness 
about it. I think there can be no man here who has not 
a respect, and some of you, I am sure, have a very 
high regard for my friend, Adam Bede. It is well 
known to everyone in this neighborhood, that there 
is no man whose word can be more depended upon than 
his; that whatever he undertakes to do, he does well 
and is as careful for the interests of those who employ 
him as for his own. I am proud to say that I was very 
fond of Adam when I was a little boy, and I have 
never lost my old feeling for him — I think that shows 



ADAM BEDE. 53 

that I know a good fellow when I see him. (applause) 
It has been my wish that he should have the manage- 
ment of the valuable wood-land on the estate, both 
because I think so highly of his character, and because 
he has the knowledge and the skill which fit him for 
the place. I am happy to tell you that it is my grand- 
father's wish, too, and it is now settled that Adam 
shall manage the woods — and by and by, I hope you 
will join me in drinking his health. But there is a 
still older friend of mine than Adam Bede present, Mr. 
Ir'vi-e. I'm sure you will agree with me that we must 
drink no other person's health until we have drunk 
his. I know you all have reason to love him, but no 
one of his parishioners has so much reason as I. 
Come, charge your glasses and let us drink to our 
excellent rector — three times three!" {the toast is 
drunk ivith enthusiasm. Arthur steps up on the dais, 
looks about, then sits.) 

Rev. Irwine — "This is not the first time by a great 
many that I have had to thank my parishioners for 
giving me tokens of their good will, but neighborly 
kindness is among those things that are the more 
precious the older they get. Indeed, our pleasant 
meeting to-day is a proof that when what is good 
comes of age and is likely to live, there is reason for 
rejoicing, and the relation between us as clergyman 
and parishioners cam.e of age two years ago, for it is 
three and twenty years since I first came among you, 
and I see some tall, fine looking young men here, as 
well ?s- =ome bloctning' young women, that were far 
from looking as pleasantly at me when I christened 
them, (laughter) as I am happy to see them looking 
now. But you will not wonder when I say, that among 
all those young men, the one in whom I have the 
strongest ii'tercst. i? my friend, Captain Arthur Don- 
nithorne, for whom you have just expressed your 
regard. I had the pleasure of being his tutor for sev- 
eral years and have naturally had opportunities of 
knowing him intimately which cannot have occurred 



54 ADAM BEDE. 

to anyone else who is present; and I have some pride 
as well as pleasure in assuring you that I share your 
high hopes concerning him, and your confidence in his 
possession of those qualities which will make him an 
excellent landlord when the time shall come for him to 
take that important position among you. We feel 
alike on most matters on which a man who is getting 
toward fifty, can feel in common with a young man of 
one and twenty, and he has just been expressing a 
feeling which I share very heartily, and I would not 
willingly omit the opportunity of saying so. That 
feeling is his value and respect for Adam Bede. Peo- 
ple in a high station are of course more thought of 
and talked about and have their virtues more praised 
than those whose lives are passed in humble, everyday 
work; but every sensible man knows how necessary 
that humble, everyday work is, and how important to 
us that it should be well done. When a man whose 
duty lies in that sort of work shows a character which 
Avould make him an example in any station, his merit 
should be acknowledged. He is one of those to whom 
honor is due, and his friends should delight to honor 
him. I know Adam Bede well. I know what he is 
as a workman, and what he has been as a son and 
a brother, and I am saying the simplest truth when I 
say that I respect him as much as I respect any man 
living. But I am not speaking to you about a stranger, 
some of you are his intimate friends, and I believe 
there is not one here who does not know enough of him 
to join heartily in drinking his health." 

Arthur (jumps up iilling his glass) — "A bumper 
to Adam Bede. and may he live to liave sons as faithful 
and as clever as himself!" (all drink) 

Adam — "I'm quite taken by surprise. I didn't expect 
anything o' this sort, for it's a good deal more than 
my wages. But I've the more reason to be grateful 
to you, cantain. and to you, Mr. Invine, and to all mv 
friends here, who've drunk my health and wished me 
well. It 'ud be nonsense for me to be saying, I don't 



ADAM BEDE. 55 

at all deserve th' opinion you have o' me; that 'ud be 
poor thanks to you, to say that you've known me all 
these years and yet haven't sense enough to find out 
a great deal of truth about me. You think if I under- 
take to do a bit o' work, I'll do it well, be my pay big 
or little — and that's true. I'd be ashamed to stand 
before you here, if it wasna true. But it seems to me 
that's a man's plain duty, and nothing to be conceited 
about; for let us do what we will, it's only making 
use o' the sperrit and the powers as ha' been given to 
us. And so, this kindness o' yours I'm sure is no 
debt you owe me, but a free gift, and as such I accept 
it, and am thankful. And as to this new employment, 
I've taken in hand, I'll only say that I took it at Captain 
Donnithorne's desire, and that I'll try to fulfill his 
expectations. I'd wish for no better lot than to work 
under him, and to know while I was getting my own 
bread I was taking care of his int'rests. For I believe 
he's one o' those gentlemen as wishes to do the right 
thing, and to leave the world a bit better than he found 
it, which it's my belief every man may do whether he's 
gentle or simple. There's no occasion for me to say 
any more about what I feel toward him — I hope to 
show it through the rest o' my life in my actions." 

(Adam sits amid a clapping of hands. Arthur cr^^ 
to him and shakes his hand warmly, then exits r. 
There is a general movement of rising from tables. 
Butlers move tables from the stage) 

Rev. Irwine (to Mrs. Poyser) — "How do you do, 
Mrs. Poyser? Weren't you pleased to hear your hus- 
band make such a good speech to-day?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, the men are mostly so tongue- 
tied you're forced partly to guess what they mean, as 
you do wi' the dumb creatures." 

Rev. Irwine — "What? You think you could have 
made it better for him? (laughing) 

Mrs. Poyser — "Well, sir, when I want to say any- 



56 ADAM BEDE. 

thing, I can mostly find words to say it in. Not as I'm 
a finding faut wi' my husband, for, if he's a man o' few 
words, what he says he'll stan' to." 

Rev. Irwine (looking around) — "I'm sure I never 
saw a prettier party than this." 

Mrs. Poyser — "If I'm not too inquisitive, where is 
Mrs. Irwine and the Misses Irwine?" 

Rev. Irwine — "They will be here presently. Cap- 
tain Donnithorne has gone to fetch them. They would 
have come before, but they were afraid of the noise 
of the toasts. Ah, here they are now." 

Enter Arthur Donnithorne leading Mrs. Irwine, 
dressed in damask satin, jewels and black lace, followed 
by the Misses Irwine. Mrs. Irwine sits on the 
dais R. 

Mrs. Irwine (looking about) — "Upon my word it's 
a pretty sight, and it's the last fete-day I'm likely to 
see, unless you make haste and get married, Arthur. 
But take care you get a charming bride ; else I would 
rather die without seeing her." 

Arthur — "You are so terribly fastidious, god- 
mother, I'm afraid I shall never satisfy you with my 
choice." 

Mrs. Irwine — "But I won't forgive you if she's not 
handsome, and she must not be silly; that will never 
do, because you'll want managing, and a silly woman 
could never manage you." 

Rev. Irwine — "What's this — something you've ar- 
ranged, Arthur? Here's Joshua Rann with his fiddle 
and Wiry Ben with a nosegay in his buttonhole." 

Arthur — "Excuse me for a moment, godmother." 
(leaves her and goes to c. of stage.) Now, friends, 
we're going to have the pleasure of seeing Wiry Ben 
dance the hornpipe, then we're going to listen to some 
singing by Mr. Casson, and then — but I mustn't tell you 
all we're going to do, must I? else there'll be no sur- 
prises. But before we begin let me say this, I'm never 



ADAM BEDE. 57 

going to be twenty-one again, (laughter) and I want 
you all to have so good a time that you'll never forget 
the day I came of age. Now, Wiry Ben." 

(Arthur goes back to the side of Mrs. Irwine. Wiry 
Ben, to the playing of the fiddle by Joshua Rann, 
dances the hornpipe. Applause zvhen Ben finishes. ) 

PoYSER (to Mrs. Poyser) — "What dost think o' 
that? He goes as pat to the music as if he was made 
o' clock work. I used to be a pretty good 'un at dancin' 
myself, but I could niver ha' hit it just to the hair like 
that." 

Mrs. Poyser — "It's little matter what his legs are, 
he's empty enough i' the upper story, or he'd niver come 
jiggin' and stampin' like a mad grasshopper. The 
gentry are fit to die wi' laughin'." 

Poyser — "Well, well, so much the better if it amuses 
em. 

(Arthur moves about and arranges for the next 
number on the programme. ) 

Mrs. Irwine — "Who is that tall young man, Dau- 
phin, with the mild face? There standing without 
his hat and taking such care of that old woman by 
the side of him — his mother, of course. I like to see 
that." 

Rev. Irwine — "Why, don't you know him, mother? 
That is Seth Bede, Adam's l:»rot'ner — a Methodist, but 
a very good fellow." 

Mrs. Irwine — "He looks rather downhearted." 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I thought it was because of 
liis father's recent death, but Joshua Rann tells me 
lie wants to marry that sweet little Methodist preacher, 
Dinah Morris, staying at Poyser's. Perhaps, she has 
refused him." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, I remember hearing Mr. Rann 
tell about her; but there's no end of gossip that man 



58 ADAM BEDE. 

can repeat. We must not listen with credence to all. 
he says." 

(With awkward movement Mr. Casson comes for- 
zvard c, hows first to Mrs. lRWiNE,then to the crowds 
Sings an English ballad, is given an encore. Casson 
gives a look of triumph at Craig as he finally takes 
his place among the croivd.) 

Craig — "It's a true sayin', there's no accountin' fur 

tastes. A crowd that 'ud applaud such bawlin 'ud 
niver care t' hear th' sweet Scotch tunes, as my second 
cousin can sing." 

Arthur (c.) — "Now, friends, Signor Partie, of 
London, will entertain us. He has brought his little 
boy and girl with him — they are very intelligent child- 
ren, so you must listen carefully to what they say."" 

(A chair is placed in the c. of stage and a ventriloquist 
entertains the crowd. When he has finished and re- 
tired, dialogue continues.) 

Re\^ Irwine — "There are the Poysers, mother, not 
far off on the right hand. Mrs. Foyser is looking at 
you. Do take notice of her." 

Mrs. Irwine — "To be sure I will, {hows graciously 
to Mrs. Foyser) A woman who sends me such ex- 
cellent cream cheese is not to be neglected. Bless me, 
what a cunning little child she is holding on her knee. 
But who is that pretty girl with dark eyes ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "That is Hetty Sorrel, Martin Poy- 
ser's niece. A very likely young person and well 
looking, too. She has lived with the Foysers six or 
seven years. You must have seen her, mother." 

Mrs. Irwine — "No, I've not seen her, son; at 
least not as she is now. (Arthur comes up to Mrs. 
Irwine.) Godson, I quite agree with you, Hetty 
Sorrel is a Hebe. What a pity such beauty should be 
thrown away among the farmers, when it's wanted 



ADAM BEDE. 59 

SO terribly among the good families without fortune. 
Mind, that doesn't apply to you, godson. (Arthur 
laughingly moves away) I daresay now, the girl 
will marry a man who would have thought her just 
as pretty if she had round eyes and red hair." 

Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I can't agree with you 
there. The commonest man is conscious of the dif- 
ference between a lovely, delicate woman and a coarse 
one." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Bless me! Dauphin, what does an 
old bachelor like you know about it?" 

Rev. Irwine — "That is one of the matters in which 
old bachelors are wiser than married men, because 
they have time for more general contemplation." 

Mrs. Irwine — "O, Dauphin, Dauphin!" 

Arthur (c.) — "Next on the programme, friends, 
will be the games." 

Women attempt to zvalk as many yards as possible on 
one leg — Donkey races etc., etc. Band stops playing. 

Arthur — "The winners will now receive their 
prizes from Mrs. Irwine." 

The Misses Irwine hand packages from small table 
to their mother. Chad's Bess is the first to come 
forward. 

Rev. Irwine — "This is Bessy Cranage, mother, 
Chad Cranage's daughter. You remember Chad Cra- 
nage, the blacksmith?" 

Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, to be sure. Well, Bessy, here 
is your prize — excellent warm things for winter. I'm 
sure you've had hard work to win them this warm day." 
(girl courtesies and zvalks azvay dejectedly) 

Arthur — "You didn't think the winner was to be 
so young, I suppose, godmother. Couldn't we find 
something else for this girl and give that gown to 
one of the older women? I think she's disappointed." 



-6o .VDAM BEDE. 

Mrs. Irwine — "It is best as it is, godson; for a love 
of finery must not be encouraged in young women of 
that class. Nothing has been provided but what is 
useful and substantial." 

(While prizes are being given out the following 
dialogue takes place down l.) 

Adam {to Lisbeth) — "After the prizes are given 
out they're going to have dancin' — Captain Donni- 
thorne wants me to join in." 

Lisbeth — "Eh ! it's fine talkin' o' dancin', and thy 
fayther not long in's grave. I wish I war there too, 
i'stid o' bein' left to take up merrier folks' room above 
ground." 

Adam — "Nay, don't look at i' that way, mother — 
I don't mean to dance, I shall only look on. And 
since the captain wishes me to be here, it "iid look 
as if I thought I knew better than him, to say as I'd 
rather not stay. And thee know'st how he's behaved 
to me to-day." 

Lisbeth — "Eh! Thee't do as thee lik'st for thy 
old mother's got no right t' hinder thee. She's naught 
but the old husks, and thee'st slipped away from her 
like the ripe nut." 

Ada?,! — "Well, mother, I'll go to tell the captain as 
it hurts thy feelings for me to stay and I'd rather go 
home upon that account; he won't take it ill then, I 
dare say, and I'm willing." 

Lisbeth — "Nay, nay, I wonna ha' thee do that — 
the young squire 'ull be angered. Go and do what 
thee't ordered to do, an' me an' Seth 'ull go home. 
I know it's a great honor for thee to be so looked on — 
an' who's prouder on it nor thy mother?" 

Adam — "Well, good-bye then, mother — good-bye 
lad — remember to feed Gyp when you get home." 
(exit Lisbeth and Seth Bede l.) 

PoYSER (comes up to Adam zvith Totty on his 
shoulder, Hetty beside him) — "Well, Adam, I'm glad 



ADAM BEDE. 6r 

to get sight on y' again. You're going to ha' a bit o'' 
fun now I hope. And here's Hetty has promised no 
end o' partners, an' I've just been askin' her if she'd 
agree'd to dance wi' you, an' she says no." 

Adam — "Well, I didn't think o' dancin' to-day." 

PoYSER — "Nonsense! Why, iverybody's goin' to 
dance, except Mrs. Irwine. The young squire has 
picked out Hetty to be his first partner; she niver had 
such a partner afore. It'll serve you to talk on, Hetty, 
when you are an old woman — how you danced wi' 
th' young squire the day he come o' age. But you'll 
dance wi' Adam after that, won't you, Hetty?" 

Hetty — "I've got no partner for the fourth dance. 
ril dance that wi' you if you like." (Mrs, Poyser 
joins the group.) 

Poyser — "You canna for shame stand still, Adam, 
an' you a fine young fellow an' can dance as well as 
anybody." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Nay, nay, it 'ud be unbecomin'. I 
know the dancin's nonsense ; but if you stick at ivery- 
thing because it's nonsense, you wonna go far i' this 
life.'^' 

Adam — "Then, if Hetty 'ull dance wi' me, I'll dance 
the fourth dance." 

Poyser — "Ah ! but you mun dance the first dance, 
Adam, else it 'ull look partic'lar. There's plenty o' 
nice partners to pick an' choose from, an' it's hard 
for the gells when the men stan' by and don't ask 'em. 
Hetty, take the little 'un while I go an' hunt a part- 
ner." (Hetty takes Totty in her arms. Mrs. Poy- 
ser moves toivard c. and intercepts Arthur as he 
passes. ) 

Mrs. Poyser — "I've desired Hetty to remember as 
she's got to dance wi' you, first, sir, for she's so 
thoughtless she'd be like enough to go an' engage her- 
self for ivery dance." 

Arthur — "Thank you, Mrs. Poyser." (a partner 
claims Mrs. Poyser, who moves away) 

Adam {to Hetty) — "Let me hold the child for you. 



62 ADAM BEDE. 

Hetty. Children are so heavy when they're asleep." 
(in changing Totty frojti Hetty to Adam, she wakes 
up and peevishly strikes at Adam, in doing so she 
catches her hand in a chain about Hetty's neck. A 
locket leaps out from Hetty's frock, chain breaks and 
locket falls on the floor) 

Hetty — "My locket ! my locket ! never mind the 
beads." 

Adam (picks up locket) — "It's all right, it isn't 
hurt." 

Hetty (suddenly regaining her composure) — "Oh, 
it doesn't matter. I don't mind about it." 

Adam — "No matter? You seemed very frightened 
about it a second ago." 

Hetty — "See, (taking locket) they're taking their 
places to dance." 

(Arthur comes toward Hetty.) 

Arthur — "Are you ready. Miss Hetty? You know 
the first dance has been promised to me and I won't 
give it up to any one. (as they nwz'c away Arthur 
says aside to her) My sweet, you look more lovely 
than ever to-day. I shall be in the wood the day after 
to-morrow at seven ; come as early as you can." 

(Arthur makes a motion for the ijiusic to be^iin. 
Band strikes up and they dance a country dance with 
spirit. Adam stands aside meditatively holding 
Totty. ) 



Curtain. 



ADAM BEDE. 63 



ACT THIRD. SCENE FIRST. 



In the Grove. (Two days later.) The Her- 
mitage. 

Early Evening in Summer. 

Rustic house r. (End of house to the audi- 
ence) Door l. in centre of house. Rustic table 
L. Rustic chair r. of table. Stump down l. 

Door of the Hermitage opens and Arthur and 
Hetty come out hand in hand — Arthur is dressed in 
.evening clothes. 

Arthur — "You must hurry home, now, my Httle pet. 
It IS growing late. Good-night, (folds her to his breast 
and kisses her passionately) 

(Enter Adam Bede r. n'ith stick over his shoulder 
on zvhich is hung a basket of tools. Arthur and 
Hetty quickly separate, Hetty exits hastily l. Adam 
stands motionless looking at Arthur.) 

-\rthur (pause) — "Well, Adam, you're on your 
way home from work, I presume? I overtook pretty 
Hetty Sorrel as I was coming to my den, the Her- 
mitage, here. So, I took care of her and asked a kiss 
for my pains. But I must get back now, (going r. ) 
for this road is confoundedly damp. Good-night, 
Adam, I shall see you to-morrow to say good-bye, you 
know." (starts to leave) 



64 ADAM BEDE. 

Adam — "Stop a bit, sir! I've got a word to say to 
you." 

Arthur — "What do you mean, Adam?" 

Adam — "I mean, sir, I mean, sir, that you don't de- 
ceive me by your light words. By your actions, this 
is not the first time you've met Hetty Sorrel in this 
grove, and this is not the first time you've kissed her." 

Arthur — "Well, sir, what then?" 

Adam — "Why, then, instead of acting like th' up- 
right, honora])ie man we've all believed you to be, 
you've been acting the part of a selfish, light-minded 
scoundrel. You know as well as I do, what it's to lead 
to, when a gentleman kisses and makes love to a young 
woman like Hetty, and gives her presents as she's 
frightened for other folks to see. And though it cuts 
me to th' heart to say so, I say it again, you're acting 
the part of a selfish, light-minded scoundrel !" 

Arthur — "Let me tell you, Adam, you're not only 
devilish impertinent, but you're talking nonsense. 
Every pretty girl isn't such a fool as to suppose that 
when a gentleman admires her beauty and pays her a 
little attention, he must mean something particular. 
Every man likes to flirt with a pretty girl and every 
pretty girl likes to be flirted with. The wider social 
distance there is between them the less harm there is, 
for then she's not likely to deceive herself." 

Adam — "I don't know what you mean by flirting, 
but if you mean behaving to a woman as if you loved 
her, and yet not loving her all the while, I say that's 
no' th' action of an honest man, and what isn't honest 
comes t' harm. I'm not a fool, and you're not a fool, 
and you know better than what you're saying. You 
know it couldn't be made public as you've behaved to 
Hetty, without her losing her character and bringing 
shame and trouble on her and on her relatives. What 
if you meant nothing by your kissing and your pres- 
ents ; other folks won't believe as you've meant nothing; 
and don't tell me about her not deceiving herself. I 
tell you as you've so filled her mind with the thought 



ADAM BEDE. 65 

of you, that she'll never love another man as 'ud make 
her a good husband." 

Arthur — "Well, Adam, perhaps, I have gone a little 
too far in taking ndtice of the pretty thing and 
stealing a kiss now and then. I'm sure I wouldn't 
bring any trouble or annoyance on her for the world. 
But I think you look too seriously at it. You're such 
a grave, steady fellow, you don't understand the temp- 
tation to such trifling. Besides, you know I am going 
away immediately, so I shan't make any more mistakes 
of the kind. So let us say good-night, and talk no 
more about the matter. The whole thing will soon be 
forgotten." {starts to go) 

Adam — "No! No! It'll not be soon forgotten, as 
you've come in between her and me, when she might 
ha' loved me — it'll not be soon forgotten as you've 
robbed me o' my happiness, while I thought you was 
my best friend, and a noble-minded man as I was proud 
to work for. You've meant nothing, have you? I've 
never kissed her i' my life, but I'd ha' worked hard for 
years for the right to kiss her. And you make light of 
it. You think little o' doing what may damage other 
folks so as you get your bit o' trifling as means no- 
tln'ng. I throw back your favors, for you're not the man 
I took you for. I'll never count you my friend any 
more. I'd rather you'd act as my enemy, and fight me 
where I stand — it's all the amends you can make. 
(Adam throivs off his coat and hat, blind with passion, 
while Arthur stands pale and motionless, his hands 
thrust ill his pockets.) What! won't you fight me like 
a man ? You know I won't strike you while you stand 
so." 

Arthur — ''Go away, Adam — I don't want to fight 
you." 

Adam — "No. you don't want to fight me; you think 
I'm a common man as you can injure without an- 
swering for it." 

Arthur — 'T never meant to injure you. I didn't 
know you loved her." 



66 ADAM BEDE. 

Adam — "But you've made her love you. You're a 
double-faced man. I'll never believe a word you say 
again." 

Arthur — "Go away, I tell you, or we shall both re- 
pent." 

Adam — "No, I won't go away wi'out fightin' you. 
Do you want provoking any more? I tell you you're 
a coward and a scoundrel and I despise you !" (Ar- 
thur clinches his right hand and deals a bloiv which 
sends Adam staggering backzvard, the two men fight 
Herccly, tzvilight deepens. Adam finally gives Arthur 
a hloiv from tvhich he falls and lays motionless. Adam 
ivaits for Arthur to rise.) 

Adam — "Why don't you get up like a man? I say 
why don't you get up? (pause, kneels beside Arthur 
and raises his head. ) Have I killed him ? Captain ! 
Captain ! Dead ! — Oh, what have I done by fightin' ? 
taken his life but not changed the past, — Hetty — He 
breathes, (gently he loosens Arthur's craz-at) Do 
you feel any pain, sir? (pause.) Do you feel any hurt, 
sir?" 

Arthur (puts his hand to his waistcoat, Adam un- 
huttons it, Arthur takes a long breath, then replies 
faintly) — "Lay my head down, and get me some water 
if you can." (Adam empties tools out of his basket, 
exits hastily, returns zvith basket leaking water.) 

Adam — "Can you drink a drop out o' your hand, 
sir?" (kneeling and lifting up Arthur's head.) 

Arthur — "No, dip my cravat in and souse it on my 
head." (Adam does as requested.) 

Adam — "Do you feel any hurt inside, sir?" 

Arthur — "No, no hurt, but rather done up. I sup- 
pose I fainted when you knocked me down." 

Adam — "Yes, sir, I'm glad it's no worse." 

Arthur — "You thought you'd done me, eh ? Come, 
help me on my legs, (zvith Adam's help he rises) I 
feel terribly shaky and dizzy, (leans on Adam's arm) 
That blow of yours must have come against me like a 
battering ram. I don't believe I can walk alone." 



ADAM BEDE. 6/ 

Adam — "Lean on me, sir; I'll get you along. Will 

you sit down a bit ? You'll perhaps be better in a min- 
ute or two." 

Arthur — "Yes, (sits in chair beside rustic table) — 
Will you go in the Hermitage and get some brandy? 
You'll see my hunting-bottle somewhere. A leather 
case with a bottle and glass in it." (Adam exits into 
the Hermitage, quickly returns with the bottle.) 

Adam — "There's very little brandy in it, sir ; {turning 
it downzvard over the glass) hardly this glass full." 

Arthur — "Well, give me that." {he takes a sip or 
two ) 

Adam — "Hadn't I better run to the Chase and get 
some more, sir? I can be there and back pretty soon, 
an' if you don't ha' something to revive you it'll be a 
stiff walk home for you." 

Arthur — "No, this will do, I shall soon be up to 
walking home, now." 

Adam (hesitatingly) — "I can't go before r^:e sr-en 
you safe home, sir." 

Arthur — "No, it will be better for you to stay — sit 
down." (Adam sits on stump, they remain opposite 
to each other in uneasy silence. They do not look, at 
each other. Arthur sips the brandy, with visibly ren- 
ovating effect, presently changes his position to a more 
comfortable one) 

Adam — "You begin to feel yourself again, sir?" 

Arthur — "Yes, but not good for much, rather lazy, 
and not inclined to move; I'll go home when I've taken 
this dose." (pause) 

Adam — "My temper got the better o' me, and I said 
things as wasn't true. I'd no right to speak as if 
you'd know you was doing me an injury; for you'd no 
grounds for knowing it; I've always kept what I felt 
for her as secret as I could, (pause) And, perhaps, I 
judged you too harsh — I'm apt to be harsh; and you 
may ha' acted out o' thoughtlessness more than I 
should ha' believed was possible for a man wi' a heart 



68 ADAM BEDE. 

and a conscience. We're not all put together alike and 
sometimes we misjudge one another." 

Arthur — "Say no more about our anger, Adam, I 
forgive your momentary injustice; with the exagger- 
ated notions you had in your mind, it was quite natural. 
We shall be none the worse friends in future I hope 
because we've fought; you had the best of it, and that 
was as it should be, for I believe I've been most in the 
wrong of the two. Come, let us shake hands." {offers 
his hand, Adam sits still) 

Adam — "I don't like to say no, to that, sir, but I 
can't shake hands till it's clear what we mean by't. I 
was wrong when I spoke as if you'd done me an injury 
knowingly, but I wasn't wrong in what I said before, 
about your bebavic>r t" Hetty, and I can't shake hands 
wi' you as if I held you my friend the same as ever, 
till you've cleared that up better." (pause) 

A.RTHUR — "I don't know what you mean by clearing 
up, Adam. I've told you already that you think toa 
seriously of a little flirtation. Rut if you are right in 
supposing there is any danger in it — I'm going away 
on Saturday to rejoin my regiment, and so there v^ull 
be an end of it. As for the pain it has given you, I'm 
heartily sorry for it. I can say no more." (Adam 
rises x's to r. looks in silence at the moonlit trees, 
turns and zvalks back to Arthur, standing looking 
dozvn upon him.) 

Adam — "Though it's hard work, it will be better for 
me to speak plain. You see, sir, this isn't a trifle to me, 
whatever it may be to you. I'm none o' them as can 
go making love first to one woman and then t' another, 
and not think it much odds which of 'em I take. What 
I feel for Hetty's a different sort o' love, such as I be- 
lieve nobody can know much about but them as feel it. 
She's more nor everything else to me, all but my con- 
science and my good name. And if it's true what 
you've been saying all along — that it's only trifling 
and flirting, as you call it, that 'ull be put an end to by 
your going away — why then I'll wait, and hope her 



ADAM BEDE. 69 

heart 'ull turn to me. I'm loath to think you'd speak 
false to me, and I'll believe your word, however things 
may look." 

Arthur — "You would be wronging Hetty more 
than me not to believe it — (starting up violently and 
then sinking back into the chair) — You seem to forget 
that in suspecting me, you are casting imputations 
upon her." 

Adam — "Nay, sir, nay; things don't lie level be- 
tween Hetty and you. Whatever you may do, you're 
acting wi' your eyes wide open ; but how do you know 
what's been in her mind ? She's all but a child — as any 
man wi' a conscience in him ought to feel bound to 
take care on. And whatever you may think, I know 
you've disturbed her mind. I know she's been fixing 
her heart on you; for there's many things clear to me 
now, as I didn't understand before. But you seem to 
make light o' what she may feel — you don't think o' 
that." (x's to L.) 

Arthur — "Confound it, Adam, let me alone ! I 
feel it enough without your worrying me." 

Adam — "Well, then, if you feel it, if you feel it as 
you may ha' put false notions into her mind, an' made 
her believe as you loved her, when all the while you 
meant nothing, I've this demand to make o' you — I'm 
not speaking for myself, but for her. I ask you t' un- 
deceive her before you go away. Y' aren't going away 
forever, and if you leave her behind wi' a notion in her 
head o' your feeling about her the same as she feels 
about you, she'll be hankering after you an' the mis- 
chief may get worse. It may be a smart to her now, 
but it'll save her pain i' th' end." 

Arthur — "Well, (iui patiently) what do you want 
me to do?" 

Adam — "I ask you to write her a letter; tell her the 
truth, an' take blame to yourself for behavin' as you'd 
no right to behave. I speak plain, sir. But I can't speak 
any other way. There's nobody can take care o' Hetty 
i' this matter but me." 



yO ADAM BEDE. 

Arthur — "I shall do what I think needful without 
giving promises to you. I shall take what measures I 
think proper." 

Adam — "No, that won't do — I must know what 
ground I'm treading on. I must be safe as you've put 
an end to what ought never to ha' been begun. I don't 
forget what's owing to you as a gentleman, but in this 
thing I can't give up to you, we're man to man." 

Arthur (pause) — "I'll see you to-morrow — I can 
bear no more now, I'm ill." (rising) 

Adam — "You won't see her again? (going close to 
him) Either tell me she can never be my wife — tell 
me you've been lying — or else promise me what I've 
asked." 

Arthur — "I promise you; let me go." 

Adam — "When will you write that letter?" 

Arthur — "To-morrow." 

Adam — "No, now !" 

Arthur — "Oh, very well." (impatiently sinkiu<y 
back into his chair and leaning his head upon his 
hand) Get a candle. You'll find one in the Her- 
mitage — on the shelf over the fireplace. And writing 
materials on the table, (exit Adam into Hcrtiiitcgc. re- 
turns with lighted candle, pen, paper. Arthur sits 
listlessly for a moment, then begins to zvrite. Adam 
walks silejitly about, then sits l. After a moment Adam 
rises, picks up his tools and replaces them in the bas- 
ket. Goes back and sits down with his head buried in 
his hands. When Arthur finishes the letter he seals 
it and hands it to Adam) There is the letter, I have 
written everything you wish. Before you deliver it, 
ask yourself whether you are not taking a course which 
may pain her more than if I were to keep silent, (ris- 
ing) There is no need for our seeing each other again. 
We shall meet with better feelings some months hence." 
(going r.) 

Adam — "You're not well enough to walk alone, sir. 
Take my arm again." 

Arthur (haughtily) — "I believe I'll not trouble 



ADAM BEDE. 

you. It's getting late and I must be going, or there 
may be an alarm set up about me at home." 

Adam — "You won't let me go with you, sir?" 

Arthur — "No." 

Adam — "Very well — good-night, sir. (Arthur 
exits R. without replying) Perhaps he's i' the right 
on't not to see me again. It's no use meeting to say 
more hard words, and it's no use meeting to shake 
hands and say we're friends again. We're not friends, 
and it's better not to pretend it. I can't feel the same 
toward him. God help me. I don't know whether I 
feel the same toward anybody; I seem as if I'd been 
measuring my work from a false line and had got it all 
to measure o'er again." (puts basket of tools on stick 
over his shoulder and exits l. ) 

End of scene first, act third. 



ACT THIRD. SCENE SECOND. 




The Hall Farm. (Next day.) The Kitchen. 

Same set as Act iirst. 

Discovered, Hetty and Molly. Hetty has a bas- 
ket on her arm. 

Molly — "Your arms look like a fine lady's, Hetty, 
but fine ladies doosna ha' brown hands, for they 
doosna work, so they keep their hands white. But — 
maybes thee 'ull ha' white hands, too, someday." 

Hetty — "What do you mean?" 

Molly — "I means that thee'st caught th' fancy o' 
th' young squire." 



72 ADAM BEDE. 

Hetty — "Who says so?" 

Molly — "Nobody ha' said so, but hanna I got 
^yes? and canna I see? I am na' bhnd. Thee knows 
as he's a takin' notice o' thee." 

Hetty — "Well, what o' that?" 

Molly — "Oh, I ha'na jealousy, that are'na i' my na- 
ture, jealousy are'na, but I doos take notice. Will 
yez let me come an see thee when thee's a great lady 
livin' i' the Chase?" 

Hetty — "How you talk." 

Molly — "If thee wast dressed up, thee'd make a 
grander lookin' lady nor any I've iver seen visitin' at 
the Chase." 

Hetty— "Molly." 

Molly — "Yis, ye would, (undertone) If the squire 
axes thee to marry him on th' sly, 'udn't thee do it ?" 

Hetty — "Maybe." 

Molly — "Course you 'ud — Didn't Meester James 
marry Sir Lawton's niece an' nobody found it out till 
it war o' no use to be mad about it? (pause) An' 
then thee'U wear feathers i' thy hair, an' thee'll dress 
up ivery day in a grand silk frock, as thee's been a-tell- 
in' me Miss Lydia do. An' some days thee'll wear 
a white 'un an' some days thee'll wear a pink 'un. An' 
then thee'll ride by the Hall Farm in a coach, an' I'll 
be on th' lookout, an' when thee sees me thee'll say, 
'Good-day, Molly; I hope thee'st well?' An' I'll say 
{courtesies) 'Yis, thank ye, me lady.' " 

Hetty — "Think what Aunt Poyser 'ud say, Molly." 

Molly — "Aye, she'd scold to see thy feathers nod- 
din' from th' coach window, but what o' that, thee'st 
not hear it." 

(Voice of Mrs. Poyser heard calling from the gar- 
den, "Hetty! Hetty!" Both girls jump, Molly 
goes into dairy and Hetty goes hastily toward the gar- 
den door Upper r., meets Mr. and Mrs. Poyser as 
they enter door Upper R.) 

Mrs. Poyser — "What hast been up to, Hetty? Look 
at the clock, do ; a fine time o' day to begin pickin' the 



ADAM BEDE. 73 

fruit, (exit Hetty into garden) She's no better than 
a peacock as 'iid strut about on the wall and spread its 
tail when the sun shone ; there's nothing seems to gi' 
her a turn i' th' inside, not even when we thought 
Totty had tumbled into the pit. It's my belief her 
heart's as hard as a pibble." (comes down l. ) 

PoYSER — "Nay, nay, {sits R. ) thee mustna judge 
Hetty too hard. Them young gells air like th' unripe 
grain — they'll make good meal by and by, but they're 
squashy yit. Thee't see. Hetty'll be all right when 
she's got a good husband an' children of her own." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I don't want to be hard upo' th' gell. 
An' let be what may, I'd strive to do my part by a niece 
o' yours, an' that I've done; for I've taught her every- 
thing as belongs to a house, an' I've told her her duty 
often enough, though I've no breath to spare, an' that 
catchin' pain comes on dreadful by times. Wi' them 
three gells i' th' house, I'd need have twice the strength 
to keep 'em up to their work. It's like havin' roast 
meat at three fires ; as soon as you've basted one, an- 
other's burnin'." 

Enter Molly from dairy excitedly. 

Molly — "O, missus !" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Well, what is't ails thee gell? Out 
with it, what hast happened, hast broke th' churn?" 

Molly — "No, missus, but old Squire Donnithorne 
ha' just drove in at th' gate." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Squire Donnithorne! Poyser, I'll lay 
my life he's brewin' some nasty turn against us, old 
Harry doesna call to see us for nothin'." 

Enter Squire Donnithorne r. c. 

Squire Donnithorne {he is short-sighted and 
peers at people when talking) — "Good-day, Mrs. Poy- 
ser." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Your servant, sir.'' {courtesies) 



76 ADAM BEDE. 

There is much less risk in dairy-land than corn-land." 

PoYSER {after a pause, to Mrs. Poyser) — "What 
dost say?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Say? Why, I say you may do as 
you like about givin" up any o' your corn-land, afore 
jour lease is up, which it won't be for a year come next 
Michaelmas Lady-day, but I'll not consent to take 
more dairy work into my hands, either for love or 
money ; an' there's nayther love nor money here, as I 
can see, on'y other folk's love o' theirselves, an' the 
money as is to go into other folk's pockets. I know 
there's them as is born t' own the land, an' them as is 
born to sweat on't, and I know it's Christian folk's 
duty to submit to their betters as fur as flesh an' blood 
'ud bear it; but I'll not make a martyr o' myself and 
wear myself to skin an' bone, an' worret myself as if I 
was a churn wi' butter a-comin' in't, for no landlord in 
England, nor if he were King George himself!" {comes 
dozen L. ) 

Squire — "No, no, my dear Mrs. Poyser, certainly 
not ; you must not overwork yourself ; but don't you 
think your work will rather be lessened than increased 
in this way? There is so much milk required at the 
Chase that you will have little increase of cheese and 
butter making from the addition to your dairy." 

Poyser — "Aye, that's true." 

Mrs. Poyser {x's back to l. c.) — "I daresay, I dare- 
say it's true for men as sit i' th' chimney-corner an' 
make believe as iverything's cut wi' ins an' outs to 
fit int' iverything else. If you could make a pudding 
wi' thinking o' th' batter, it 'ud be easy gettin' dinner." 

Squire — "I believe selling the milk is the most 
profitable way of disposing of dairv produce, is it 
not?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "How do I know whether the milk 
'ud be wanted constant? An' if it wasn't, I'd have to 
lie awake nights wi' twenty gallons o' milk on my 
mind ! An' there's the fetchin' an' carryin' as 'ud 
be well half a day's work for a man an' horse, — that's 



ADAM BEDE. 77 

to be took out o" th' profits, I reckon? But there's 
folks "ud hold a sieve under the pump and expect to 
carry away water." 

Squire — "That difficulty, about the fetching and 
carrying, you will not have, Mrs. Poyser. Bethell will 
do that regularly with the cart and pony." 

Mrs. Poyser — "O, sir, begging your pardon, I've 
niver been used t' havin' gentlefolk's servants comin' 
about my kitchen a-makin' love to th' gells, an' keepin' 
'em wi' their hands on their hips when they should be 
down on their knees a-scourin'. If we're to go to ruin, 
it shanna be wi' havin' our back kitchen turned into 
a public !" 

Squire — "Well, Poyser, {ignoring Mrs. Poyser.) I 
can easily make another arrangement about supplying 
my house. And I shall not forget your readiness to 
accommodate me. I know you will be glad to renew 
your lease when the present one expires ; otherwise, 
I daresay, Thurle, who is a man of some capital, would 
be glad to take both farms, as they can be worked 
so well together." 

Poyser — "I'm sorry, sir, but, — " 

Mrs. Poyser — "Then, sir, if I may speak, and I've 
a right to speak, though I am a woman, for I make 
one quarter o' th' rent an' save the other quarter, — 
I say if Mr. Thurle's so ready to take farms under you, 
it's a pity but what he should take this, an' see if he 
likes to live in a house wi' all the plagues o' Egypt in't 
— rats an' mice gnawin' every bit o' cheese, an' runnin' 
over our heads as we lie i' bed till we expect 'em to eat 
us up alive, — and it's a mercy they hanna eat the chil- 
dren long ago ! I should like to see if there's another 
tenant beside my husband, as 'ud put up wi' niver 
havin' a bit o' repairs done till a place tumbles down, 
an' not then, on'y wi' beggin' an' prayin', an' havin' 
to pay half. (Squire going toivard door r. c.) You 
may run away from my words, sir, an' go spinnin' un- 
derhand ways o' doin' us a mischief, but I tell you for 
once as we're not dumb creatures to be abused and 



78 ADAM BEDE. 

made money on by them as a' got th' lash i' their 
hands. If I'm th' only one as speaks my mind, there's 
plenty o' th' same way o' thinkin' i' th' parish, for your 
name's no better than a brimstone match in every- 
body's nose, — if it isna two or three old folks as you 
think o' savin' your soul by givin' 'em a bit of flannel 
and a drop o' porridge. You may be right i' thinking 
it'll take but little to save your soul, for it'll be the 
smallest savin' y' iver made, wi' all your scratchin' !" 

Exit Squire Donnithorne r. c. Poyser watches 
him go, then turns to his wife. 

PoYSER — "Thee's done it, now." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Yes, I know I've done it, but I"ve 
had my say out. There's no pleasure i' livin', if you're 
to be corked up foriver and dribble your mind out by 
the sly, like a leaky barrel." 

Poyser — "I'm sorry thee wast so harsh, Rachel." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I shan't repent saying what I think, 
if I live to be as old as th' old squire, an' there's a 
little likelihood, — for it seems as if them as arena 
wanted i' this world are the only ones as arena wanted 
i' th' next." 

Poyser — "But thee wotna like moving from th' old 
place and going into a strange parish, where thee 
know'st nobody. It'll be hard upo' us both, and upo' 
father, too." 

Mrs. Poyser — "It's no use worretin' ; there's plenty 
o' things may happen between this an' Michaelmas 
twelvemonth. For what we know, th' captain may be 
master afore then." (exit into dairy) 

Poyser — "I am none for worretin', (getting his 
pipe) but I should be loath to leave th' old place, 
an' the parish where I was born and bred and father 
afore me. We should leave our roots behind us, I 
doubt and never thrive again." (exit door l.) 

(Enter Hetty fro in garden upper r. zvith basket 



ADAM BEDE. 79 

ifilled zvith currants. She places basket on table l. and 
.turns to see Adam Bede standing in the door r. c. 
Hetty starts. ) 

Adam — "I frightened you. (entering) I'm sorry. 
You've been picking currants?" 

Hetty — "Yes, aunt wanted some for pies." 
Adam — "Hetty, I've something particular I'd Hke to 
talk to you about." 

Hetty — "Very well." (sits r. of table l.) 
Adam — "I hope you won't think me making too 
free, but, after what I saw on Thursday night, there's 
something I want to say to you. You are young, 
Hetty, and y' haven't seen much o' w'hat goes on i' th' 
world, and it's right for me to do what I can to save 
you from harm, for want o' your knowing where 
you're being led to. If anybody besides me was to see 
you wi' Captain Donnithorne they'd speak light on 
you ; and besides that, you'll have to sufifer yourself 
wi' giving your love to a man as can never marry you 
an' take care of you all your life." 

Hetty — "You've no right to say as I love him." 
Adam — "I doubt it must be so, Hetty, for I canna 
believe you'd let any man kiss you and give you a gold 
locket with his hair in it, and meet him in the grove, 
if you didn't love him. I'm not blaming you, for I 
know it 'ud tegin by little and little, till at last you'd 
not be able to throw it off. It's him I blame for stealing 
your love, when he knew he could never make you the 
right amends. He's been trifling with you, Hetty, and 
making a plaything of you and caring nothing about 
you. as a man ought to care." 

Hetty — "Yes, he does care for me; I know better 
nor you." 

Adam — "Nay, Hetty, if he'd cared for you rightly, 
he'd never ha' behaved so. He told me himself he 
meant nothing by his kissing and his presents, and he 
wanted to make me believe as you thought light of 
'em, too. But I know better nor that. I can't help 



80 ADAM BEDE. 

thinking as you've been trusting t's loving you v»?ell' 
enough to marry you for all he's a gentleman. But 
the thought o" marrying you has never entered his 
head." , 

Hetty — "How do you know? How durst you say 
so?" 

Ada:,i — "Perhaps, you don't believe me, Hetty, 
maybe you think too well of him — maybe you think 
he loves you better than he does. But I've got a letter 
in my pocket, that after he told me he meant nothing 
I asked him to write to you. I've not read the letter,, 
but he says he's told you the truth in it. (takes letter 
from his pocket) Don't let it take too much hold on 
you. It would ha' been a mad thing if he'd wanted 
to marry you; it 'ud ha' come to no happiness i' the 
end. (she puts out her hand for the letter; Adam con- 
tinues to hold it) Don't bear me ill-will, Hetty, be- 
cause I'm the means o' bringing you this pain. God 
knows I'd ha' borne a good deal worse for the sake o^ 
sparing it you. (gives her the letter) There's nobody 
but me knows about this and you needn't fear as any 
one 'ull ever hear it from me. I'll take care o' you, 
for you're the same as ever to me. I don't believe 
you've done any wrong knowingly. If you was being 
courted by a man as 'ud make you his wife, and I'd 
known you was fond o' him, I should ha' had no right 
to speak, but I was bound to interfere when the cap- 
tain said he'd no thought o' marrying you. You must 
ha' seen for some time, Hetty, that I've been in love 
wi' you, but there's no use o' my thinking any more 
o' that, (x's to R.) 

(Enter Totty from dairy.) 

Adam — "Hey, Totty! And how is Totty to-day? 
(catches her in his arms and kisses her) What a fine, 
big girl you're getting to be. Would Totty like to ride 
on my shoulder — ever so high — and almost touch the 
top o' the trees?" (Totty nods her head, Adam puts 



ADAM BEDE. 8 1 

the child on his shoulder and exits Upper r. Totty 
laughing zvith delight.) 

(Hetty looks cautiously about, then sits r. of table 
L., opens letter and reads aloud zvith some difficulty.) 

Dearest Hetty: 

I spoke truly when I said that I loved you. But I 
ought not to have done as I have and I must do what 
is right from now on. I would be marrying out of 
my station if I were to make you my wife. Since I 
cannot do this, we must part ; try not to think about 
me any more. I am miserable while I write this. Be 
angry, sweet one ; I deserve it. When this reaches you 
I shall be in Windsor — below is my address — do not 
write unless there is something I can really do for you. 
Forgive me and try to forget everything about me, 
except that I shall be as long as I live, 
Your afifectionate friend, 

Arthur Donnithorne. 

(Hetty leans her neaa upon her hand. After a mo- 
ment she brushes pettishly, some tears away, rises, x's 
to r. crumples letter in her hand.) 

{Enter Martin Poyser l. still smoking his pipe.) 

He'^ty — "Uncle, will you let me go and be a lady's- 
maid?" 

Poyser — "Why, lass, what ails thee? What's put 
that into thy head?" {sits r. Hetty x's to l. ) 

Hetty — "I should like it better nor farm-work." 

Poyser — "Nay, nay; you fancy so because you 
donna know it, my lass. It wouldna be half so good 
for your health nor for your luck i' life." 

Hetty — "I donna care." 

Poyser — "F'd like you to stay wi' us till you've got a 
good husband ; you're my own niece and I wouldna 
ha' you go to service as long as I ha' got a home for 
you." 



82 ADAM BEDE. 

Hetty — "I like the needle-work, and I should get 
good wages." 

PoYSER — "Has your aunt been a bit cross wi' you? 
You mustna mind that, my lass — she does it for thy 
good. There isna many as are no kin to thee, 'ud ha' 
done by you as she has." 

Hetty — "No, it isn't aunt, but I should like the work 
better." 

PoYSER — "It was all very well for you to learn the 
work a bit, an' I gev' my consent to that fast enough, 
sin' Mrs. Pomfret was willin' to teach you. But I niver 
meant you to go to service, my lass; my family's eat 
■their own bread as fur back as anybody knows, an' I 
•wouldna like my niece to take wage now. Besides, 
Hetty, you've got a good chance o' gettin' a solid, 
sober husband, as any gell i' this country. (Hetty 
begins to cry. ) Hey ! hey ! don't let's have any cryin'. 
Cryin's for them as ha' got no home." 

Hetty — "Uncle, please let me go." 

PoYSER — "Nay, my lass, give over cryin'. I'll do 
better for you nor lettin' you go for lady's-maid." 

Hetty — "I'm tired o' allays stayin' here." 

PoYSER — "I canna make out why you should want 
to go away, it looked o' late as vou'd a mind t' Adam 
Bede." 

Hetty — "Uncle, maybe by and by you'll let me go?" 

PoYSER — "Nay, till thee'st married, thee must stay 
wi' us. I know what is best for thee, lass. And so 
let us hear no more on't." (Mr. Poyser exits into 
dairy. ) 

(Hetty sits r. of table l., takes letter from pocket, 
reads part of it again, bursts out crying.) 

(Enter Adam and Totty Upper r. Adam pnts 
'Potty dozvn and she runs off into the dairy. Adam 
looks at Hetty.) 

Adam — "Poor child. It's because she's had her first 



ADAM BEDE. 83 

heartache. I doubt if he will ever suffer so. {going to 
her) Try to bear up under it, Hetty. You mustna give 
way to your feelings, for if you do you'll look white 
and ill and your aunt may take notice of it. Thee'st 
a good friend in me allays, Hetty. (Hetty puts out 
her left hand; Adam takes it in his right, and presses 
her arm close against his heart) — (pause.) I'm going 
to tell your uncle some ,news that'll surprise him, 
Hetty ; and I think you'll be glad to hear it, too." 

Hetty {zvhispering) — "What's that?" 

Adam — "Why, Mr. Burge has offered me a share in 
his business, and I'm going to take it." 

Hetty — "I'm glad o' that." 

Adam — "I thought you'd be glad, Hetty." 

Hetty — "And maybe some day you"ll be marryin' 
Mary Burge?" 

Adam — "No, I shall never marry, unless — to thee. 
Dost think by and by you could come to care for me in 
that way, Hetty?" (Hetty looks up in his face smil- 
ing faintly through her tears.) 

Hetty — "Maybe." 

Adam — "Will you try and think as some day you'll 



marrv me 



?"• 



Hetty — "I'll marry you any time you say, Adam." 
{she puts her round cheek against Adam's face) 

Adam — "Hetty! You mean it? I may tell your 
aunt and uncle?" 

Hetty — "Yes." 

{Enter Mr. and Mrs. Poyser from dairy l. c.) 

Adam — "Mr. Poyser, I've just been a-tellin' Hetty, 
here, that Mr. Burge has offered me a share in his 
business and that I'm going to take it." 

Poyser — "Good, Adam, good ! that's as it should 
be. I wish thee all the success that thee deserves. 
And that's considerable i' my opinion." {shakes hands 
tvith Adam) 

Mrs. Poyser — "If everybody got their just deserts 



84 ADAM BEDE. 

i' this world, there'd be few lookin' forrard to a soft 
seat i' th' Hereafter." 

Adam — "In a few months time if all goes well, I 
can afiford to get married, and Hetty has just prom- 
ised to be my wife. I hope you've no objections 
against me for her husband ? I'm a poor man as yet, 
but she shall want nothing as I can work for." 

PoYSER — "Objections? What objections can we ha' 
to you, lad?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "Never mind your being poorish; 
there's money in your headpiece as there's money i' 
th' sown field, but it must ha' time." 

Poyser — "You've got enough to begin on, and we 
can do a deal tow'rt the bit o' furniture you'll want. 
Thee's got feathers and linen to spare — plenty, eh?" 

Mrs. Poyser — "It 'ud be a poor tale, if I hadna 
feathers and linen, when I never sell a fowl but what's 
plucked, and the wheels a-going ivery day o' the week." 

Poyser — "Come, lass, come and kiss us and let us 
wish you luck. (Hetty goes quietly and kisses her 
uncle.) There, (patting her on the back) go and kiss 
your aunt. I'm as wishful t' ha' you settled well as if 
you was my own daughter; (Hetty kisses Mrs. Poy- 
ser) and so's your aunt, for she's done by you this 
seven year as if you'd been her own. (Hetty goes to 
sit dozvn.) Come, come, Adam wants a kiss, too, I'll 
warrant, and he's a right to one now. Come, Adam, 
take one, else y' arena half a man. (Adam blushing 
puts his arm around Hetty, stoops and gently kisses 
her.) Rachel, we mun ha' some wine to drink their 
health." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, presently." (exits l. c. go- 
ing L. ) 

Poyser — "Hast thee thought of a house for thysen'? 
There's none empty i' th' village a'side the little 'un 
next to Will Maskery's." 

Adam — "That house would be too small, Mr. Poy- 
ser." 

Poyser — "Maybe. The best plan 'ud be for thy 



ADAM BEDE. 85 

mother an' Seth to move there and leave the old home 
to thee." 

Adam — "Nay, I'd not consent to that. Mother 'ud 
never be happy but in the old place. Hetty, for my 
sake you'd be willing mother should live wi' us, would- 
n't you?" 

Hetty — "Yes — I'd as soon she lived with us as not." 

PoYSER — "Well spoken, lass. But we needna fix 
ivery thing to-day. You canna think o' getting mar- 
ried afore Easter at the earliest, {enter Mrs. Poyser 
L. c. li'ith tray and glasses filled zvith wine) I'm not 
for long courtships, but there mun be a bit o' time to 
make things comfortable." 

Mrs. Poyser — "Aye, Christian folks can't be married 
like cukoos, I reckon." (passes glass of zvine to each) 

Poyser — "I'm a bit daunted though when I think 
as we may ha' notice to quit, and be forced to take a 
farm twenty miles off." 

Mrs. Poyser — "I tell thee, Poyser, not t' fret afore- 
hand." 

Poyser — "Aye, mayhappen th' captain 'uU come 
home afore then and make our peace wi' th' old squire. 
I build upo' that, for I know th' captain 'ull see folks 
right if he can. But come, drink. May Hetty, {look- 
ing at Adam) make you a good and faithful wife, and 
may Adam, {looking at Hetty) make you an honor- 
able, lovin' husband, and may God bless you both." 
{all touch glasses and drink.) 



Curtain. 



86 ADAM BEDE. 



ACT FOURTH. SCENE FIRST. 



The Rectory. Eight Months Later. Evening. 

Same Set as Act First. 

Enter Rev. Adolphus Irwine l. c. followed by 
Carrol zvho assists the rector to remove his coat, etc. 

Carrol — "Your reverence." 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, Carrol?" 

Carrol — "Squire Donnithome is dead." 

Rev. Irwin's— "What !" 

Carrol — "He was found dead in his bed at ten 
o'clock this morning. Mrs. Irwine begs you will not 
retire without seeing her. She told me to say that she 
should be awake when you came home." 

{Enter Mrs. Irwine l. c. robed in a dressing gown.) 

Mrs. Irwine — "Well, Dauphin, you're home at last. 
(kisses him) 1 suppose Carrol has told you the news, 
that the squire was found dead in his bed this morn- 
ing?" {e.vit Carrol) 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, mother." 

Mrs. Irwine — "So the old gentleman's low spirits 
and his sending for Arthur, really meant something." 
(she sits by fire l. Rev. Irwine r. of desk c. ) 

Rev. Irwine — "What have they done about Arthur? 
Sent a message to await him at Liverpool ?" 

Mrs. Irwine — "Yes, word was sent to him before 
the news was brought to us." 



ADAM BEDE. 8/ 

Rev. Irwine — "Ah, then the message reached him 
some hours ago ; barring delays he should arrive home 
by midnight." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Dear Arthur, I shall live now to see 
him master at the Chase and making good times on the 
estate, like a generous-hearted fellow as he is. He'll 
be as happy as a king now. (Rev. Irwine sighs.) 
What are you so dismal about, Dauphin ? Is there any 
bad news? Or are you thinking of the danger for 
Arthur in crossing that frightful Irish channel ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "No, mother, I'm not thinking of 
that." 

Mrs. Irwine — "You've been worried about this law 
business that you've been to Stoniton about. What in 
the world is it that you can't tell me ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "You will know by and by, mother." 

Mrs. Irwine — "What a mysterious boy you are. 
(rising x's to kiss him) If you were not such a con- 
firmed bachelor, I should fancy you were in love. 
But, good-night, my son, after your long ride you 
must be fatigued. Promise me you will go to bed 
at once?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Presently, mother." 

Mrs. Irwine — "Ah, your presentlys, I know them; 
you're likely to sit up half the night." {going l. c.) 

Rev. Irwine — "Good-night, mother, (goes zvith her 
to the door; they kiss; Mrs. Irwine exits l. c.) It's 
no use, it's no use of my going to bed — I can't sleep, 
with the face of that child, Hetty Sorrel, haunting me." 

(Enter Carrol l. c.) 

Rev. Irwine — "Well. Carrol?" 

Carrol — "Adam Bede is in the hall ; he says he 
wishes to see you on particular business, or he wouldn't 
trouble you, sir. (pause) Shall I show him in?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Carrol." 

(Carrol exits l. c. then returns and shozvs in Adam 
Bede. ) 



»5 ADAM BEDE. 

Rev. Irvvine — ''Good-evening, you want to speak 
to me, Adam? Sit down. (Rev. Irwine sits r. of 
desk c. and points Adam to a chair opposite him.) 

Adam — "I come to you, sir, as the gentleman I 
look up to most of anybody in the world." 

Rev. Irwine — "I am gratified to hear you say that, 
Adam." 

Adam — "I've something very painful to tell you — 
something as it'll pain you to hear as well as me to 
tell. (Mr. Irwine nods his head sloivly.) You wast' 
ha' married me and Hetty Sorrel, you know, sir, o' 
th' fifteenth o' this month. I thought she had come to 
love me, and I was th' happiest man i' the parish. 
But a dreadful blow's come upon me. She's gone 
away, sir, and we don't know where. (Mr. Irwine 
starts up as if involuntarily, but controls himself. 
Walks to the windotv r. and draws curtains, then re- 
turns to his seat.) She said she was going to visit 
Dinah Morris at Snowfield, and I went to fetch her 
back, but she'd never been there. I'm going a long 
journey to look for her, and I can't trust to anybody 
but you, where I'm going." 

Rev. Irwine — "Have you no idea of the reason she 
went away?" 

Adam — "It's plain enough she didna want to marry 
me, sir. She didna like it when it came so near. 
But that isna all, I doubt ; there's somebody else as is 
concerned in this besides me. (Adam looks on the 
■door, pauses, then lifts his head and looks straight at 
Mr. Irwine.) You know the man I've reckoned my 
greatest friend and used to be proud to think as I 
should pass my life i' working for him?" (Mr. Irwine, 
as if self-control has forsaken him, grasps Adam's 
ar)n ivhich rests on the table.) 

Rev. Irv/ine — ''No, Adam, no, don't say it, don't! 
{relaxing his hold.) Go on — I must hear it." 

Adam — "That man behaved to Hetty as he'd no 
right to behave to a girl in her station o' life. Just 
before he v/ent av/av I found him a-kissing her as 



ADAM BEDE. 89 

they were parting in the grove. There'd been nothing 
said between me and Hetty, then, though I'd loved her 
for a long while and she knew it. But I reproached 
him with his actions, and blows passed between us; 
and he said solemnly to me after that, as it had been 
all nonsense, and no more than a bit o' flirting. I 
asked him to write a letter and tell Hetty he'd meant 
nothing, for I saw clear enough by things as I hadna 
understood at the time, as he'd got hold of her heart. 
I gave Pletty the letter, and she seemed to bear up 
after awhile better than I'd expected — and she behaved 
kinder and kinder to me — maybe she didna know her 
own feelings then, and they came back upon her when 
it was too late — I don't want to blame her — I can't 
think as she meant to deceive me. But I was encour- 
aged to think she loved me— and — you know the rest, 
sir. (aroused) It's on my mind as he's been false to 
me, and 'ticed her away, and she's gone to him — and 
I'm going now to see ; I can't go back to v/ork till 
I know what's become of her." (Mr. Irwine places 
Ms hand upon Adam's arm this time gently.) 

Rev. Irwine — "Adam, my dear friend, you have 
had hard trials in your life. And you have proven 
that you can bear sorrow manfully, as well as act man- 
fully; both tasks are required at our hands. And now 
there is a heavier sorrow coming upon you than any 
you have yet known. (Mr. Irwine Jiesitates.) I have 
seen Hetty this morning. (Adam springs up.) She is 
not gone to him. She is in Stoniton." 

Adam — "She is in Stoniton !" Parson, what " 

Rev. Irwine — ""'Wait, Adam, wait. (Adam sits.) 
She is in a very unhappy position, in one that will 
make it harder for you to find her, my poor friend, 
than to have lost her, forever." 

Adam (almost in a zvhisper) — "What do you mean? 
Tell me." 

Rev. Irwine — "She has been arrested — She is in 
prison — Her trial ended to-day." 

Adam — "Her trial ! For what ?" 



90 ADAM BEDE. 

Rev. Irvvine — "For a great crime — the murder of 
her child." 

Adam — "It can't be! (starts for the door, turns, 
bracing his back against door. ) It isna possible ! She 
isna guilty! Who says it?" 

Rev. Irwine — "God grant she may be innocent, 
Adam." 

Adam — "But who says she's guilty? What do you 
know about it?" 

Rev. Irvvine — "Try and be calm, Adam, and I'll 
tell you. (Adam comes back to the table, gradually 
takes his seat again.) On Tuesday I received word 
that a young woman was on trial at Stoniton, who 
would neither tell who she was nor where she came 
from. But when she was searched, a small red leather 
pocket book was found in which two names were 
MTitten, 'Hetty Sorrel, Hayslope,' and 'Dinah Morris, 
Snowfield'. As a magistrate, application was made to 
me for identifying her." 

Adam — "You went to Stoniton?" 

Rev. Irwine — "At once. And have been with her 
until the close of the trial." 

Adam — "Oh, God ! (groaning and leaning on the 
table. There is a pause, then he jumps up.)li there's 
been any crime, it's at his door, not her's. It's his 
doing. He taught her to deceive; he deceived me 
first. Let 'em put him on trial. Let him stand beside 
her in court, and I'll tell how he got hold of her heart 
and 'ticed her to evil ; and then lied to me. Is he to 
go free, while they lay all the blame on her ? — so weak 
and young. Oh, I can't bear it ! It's hard to lay upon 
me — it's hard to think she's wicked, (sinks in chair, 
then sits motionless with eyes iixed.) It was fear- 
made her hide it — I forgive her for deceiving me — I 
forgive thee, Hetty — thee wast deceived, too — it's gone 
hard wi' thee, my poor Hetty — but they'll never make 
me believe any wrong o' thee, (pause, then he starts 
up coming dozvn l.) I'll go to him — I'll bring him 
back — I'll make him look at her in her misery — he 



ADAM BEDE. 9 1 

shall look at her till he can't forget it — it shall follow 
him till he can't eat nor sleep — he shan't escape wi' 
lies this time. He shall go to Stoniton if I ha' to 
drag him there myself." (goes toward door l. c.) 

Rev. Irwine — "No, Adam, no. The punishment 
will fall without your aid. He is now on his way home 
and may arrive at any moment. Besides, Adam, you 
forget that there are other people to consider as well 
as yourself. This sorrow has fallen on the good Poy- 
sers more heavily than I can bear to think." 

Adam — "Have they been to see Hetty?" 

Rev. Irwine — "No, Mrs. Poyser is too ill to go, 
and though Mr. Poyser has spent money liberally in 
Hetty's defense, he cannot find it in his heart to go to 
her." 

Adam — "Poor child. Such a little while ago looking 
so happy and so pretty — kissing 'em all, and they 
wishing her luck — Oh, my poor, poor Hetty— dost 
think on it now ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Drink some wine, (offering him 
some zvine) and show me you mean to bear up like 
a man." (ivith quiet obedience Adam, drinks a little) 

Adam — "Will you go with me to Stoniton, parson?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, of course, I will go with you, 
Adam." 

Adam — "When ? To-morrow, first thing i' th' morn- 
ing?" 

Rev. Irwine — "If you wish it, yes." 

Adam — "We may meet him if we set out early 
enough ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "No, he will come from the opposite 
direction. The nearest place for him to leave the coach 
is at Lansdale." 

Adam — "Yes — well then, we'll wait — we can't go 
till I've seen him. She shall ha' justice. I don't care 
what she's done — it was him brought her to it, and he 
shall know it — he shall feel it — if there's a just God, 
that man shall feel Avhat it is t' ha' brought a child like 
her to misery." 



•92 ADAM BEDE. 

Rev. Irwine — "Adam, if you obey your passion, 
though you deceive yourself in calling it justice — it 
will lead you precisely as it has led him; nay, it may 
lead you into a worse crime." 

Adam — "No, not worse. I don't believe it's worse. 
I'd sooner do it. I'd sooner do a wickedness as I 
could suffer for myself, than ha' brought her to do 
wickedness." 

Rev. Irwine — "Adam, there is no wrong deed of 
which a man can bear the punishment alone. An act 
of vengeance would only add an evil to those we are 
already suffering under." 

Adam — "I must see him afore we go to Stoniton." 

Rev. Irwine — "But he may not come as we expect. 
Some accident may delay him for two or three days. 
I think we would better not wait. Instead, I will send 
a note to the Chase to be delivered as soon as he 
reaches home, telling him to follow me to Stoniton." 

Adam — "Would he do it?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, if I asked him to, I am confi- 
dent he would. Such an arrangement would be better 
than for us to wait here in a state of uncertainty — 
when we might be of comfort to Hetty, (zmtches the 
effect of his zvords upon Adam) I'll write the note 
now, and send it off at once, (pen, ink and paper on 
table. Adaai sits quietly l. of table c. zvhile Rev. 
Irwine ivrites the letter) 

Rev. Irwine (zvrites) "Arthur: 

I send this letter to meet 
you on your arrival because I may then be at Stoniton, 
where I am called by the most painful duty it has ever 
been given me to perform. Hetty Sorrel is in prison 
under a terrible accusation. The jury are considering 
the verdict. Follow me to Stoniton at once. 

Adolphus Irwine. 

Rev. Irwine folds and seals letter, taps bell. Car- 
rol enters l. c. 



ADAM BEDE. 93 



Adam — "Oh, God ! and men ha' suffered Hke this 
before — (Rev. Irwine gives Carrol directions and he 
exits) and poor, helpless young things ha' suffered 
like her. (pause) Tell me what they've said, I must 
know it now — I must know what they have brought 
against her. Did the evidence go hard against her? 
What do you think? Tell me the truth, Mr. Irwine." 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, Adam. The doctor's testimony 
is heavy against her." 

Adam — "But what did she say?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Denied everything from first to last, 
in the face of the most positive evidence." 

Adam — "It's no use — it's no use, I can't believe she's 
guilty, parson, (pause) How did she look?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Frightened. Very frightened, and 
when they asked her if she'd plead guilty or not guilty, 
she did not answer, so they plead for her, 'not guilty.' " 

Adam — "Was there nobody there to stand by her? 
nobody there as 'ud care for her?" 

Rev. Irwine — "No one, but me. I sat by her and 
did what I could for her." 

Adam — "God bless you for it ! God bless you for it !" 

Rev. Irwine — "It was little that anyone could do, 
for she sat like a white image, refusing to speak and 
seeming not to hear nor see." 

Adam — "Poor child. Poor Hetty, my sweet. 
(pause) Has Dinah Morris been to see her?" 

Rev. Irwine — "No, they are afraid the letter has 
not reached her. It seems she is away preaching, and 
they have no exact address. If she knew the child 
needed her, I am sure she would go to her." 

Adam — "Aye, that she would. Did you ask Hetty, 
did you say anything about me, sir?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes, I asked her if you might come 
to see her." 

Adam — "Well, parson, well?" 

Rev. Irwine — "She is very much changed, Adam, 
and she shrinks from seeing anyone. When I men- 



94 ADAM BEDE. 

tioned your name she only said 'No, no,' in the same 
cold way." 

Adam (jumping up and walking about) — "Oh, she 
lies there in misery, while he — he " 

Rev. Irwine — "He will suffer long and bitterly. 
Why do you seek vengeance in this way, Adam? No 
amount of torture that you could inflict on him would 
benefit her." 

AdaM' — "No! (sinking in chair l. of table c.) 
that's what makes the blackness of it — it can never be 
undone. She can never be my sweet Hetty again, 
looking up at me, the prettiest thing that ever smiled. 
I thought she loved me — and was good." 

(Enter Carrol l. c. ) 

Rev. Irwine — "Well, Carrol?" 

Carrol — "There is a messenger in the hall from 
Stoniton. He says he must see you." 

Rev. Irwine — "I will go to him." (starts to go l. c. ) 

Adam — "No, parson, no. If it's news from her let 
me hear it, too." 

Rev. Irwine — "Very well. Show him in, Carrol." 
(exit C.-krrol l. c; returns shoiving in a messenger) 

Messenger — "Rev. Mr. Irwine?" 

Rev. Irwine — "That is my name." 

Messenger — "You asked to be notified of the ver- 
dict in the Sorrel case?" 

Rev. Irwine — "I did." 

Adam — "Speak out, man, quick, speak, what is it?" 

Messenger — "Guilty." 

Adam (staggering back) — "Oh! She's not guilty! 
She's not guilty! You don't think she is, sir, do you? 
(exit messenger.) She can't ha' done it. Will they 
hang her?" 

Rev. Irwine — "We can try for a pardon, Adam. 
Her youth will be a plea for her." 

Adam — "Come! You promised to go wi' me to 
Stoniton. i m going." 



ADAM BEDE. 95 

Rev. Irwine — "Not to-night." 

Adam — "Yes, now ! It's cowardly o' me to keep 
away a minute longer. I'm going to her, for all she's 
been deceitful. We ha' no business to hand folks over 
to God's mercy and then forget to show mercy our- 
5elves. I'll go to her, an' I'll stand by her, I'll stand 
by her to the end. Come ! Mr. Irwine. Come !" 
(grabs up his hat and starts for the door l. c.) 

End of Scene First, Act Fourth. 



ACT FOURTH— SCENE SECOND. 



The Prison. (Two Weeks Later.) Early Morning. 

The Prison. 

Cell door l. Straw pallet r. Chair l. c. Small 
window high in wall r. 

Discovered, Hetty seated on straw pallet zvith her 
face buried in her knees. Key turns harshly in the 
lock. Enter Jailor follozved by Dinah Morris l. 

Jailor — "There she is." 

Dinah — "Thank thee, friend." 

Jailor — -"She's so sullen most o' th' time, she won't 
answer when she's spoken to. Is she kin o' 'yourn?" 

Dinah — :"Yea, my own aunt married her uncle. I 
was away at Leeds and didn't know of this trouble in 
time to get here, before. What hour does the cart set 
out?" 

Jailor — "Eight o'clock. It's pretty dark in here 
now, but it'll be lighter as the sun gets up. (going) If 
vou want anvthing, I'll be within call." 



g6 ADAM BEDE. 

Dinah — "I am grateful for thy kindness, {cxir. 
Jailor l.) (pause) Hetty, (slight movement of 
Hetty's frame, out she does not look up) Hetty, — 
it's Dinah. (Hetty raises her head a little as if listen- 
ing.) Hetty, — Dinah is come to you. (Hetty lifts 
her head sloiuly and timidly, the tzvo zvomen 
look into each others faces, Dinah stretches out 
her anus.) Don't you know me, Hetty? Don't 
you remember Dinah? Did you think I wouldn't 
come to you in trouble? (Hetty looks fixedly on 
Dinah's face, but does not move) — I'm come to be 
with you, Hetty, — not to leave you — to stay with you — 
to be your sister to the last (slozuly Hetty rises, takes 
a step forzvard and is clasped in Dinah's arms — long 
pause. They sit on pallet.) Hetty, do you know who 
it is that sits by your side ?" 

Hetty — "Yes, it's Dinah." 

Dinah — "And do you remember the evening we 
met in the wood, and I told you to be sure and think of 
me as a friend in trouble?" 

Hetty (pause) — "Yes, but you can do nothing for 
me. You can't make 'em do anything. They'll hang 
me to-day. It's morning now." (shudders) 

Dinah — "No, Hetty, I can't save you from that 
death. But isn't the suffering less hard when you have 
somebody with you that feels for you, that you can 
speak to, and say what's in your heart ?" 

Hetty — "You u-on't leave me, Dinah ? You'll keep 
close to me ?" 

Dinah — "No, Hetty, I won't leave you. I'll stay 
with you to the last — But, Hetty, there is some one 
else in this place beside me, some one close to you." 

Hetty (frightened tvhisper) — "Who?" 

Dinah — "Some one who has been with you through 
all you hours of trouble — one who has known every 
thought you have had — has seen where you went, 
where you lay do^^'n and rose up again, and all the 
deeds yoii have tried to hide in darkness — And to-day, 
when I can't follow you, when my arms can't reach 



ADAM BEDE. 97 

you, when death has parted us, He, who is with us 
now, and knows all, will be with you then. It makes 
no difference whether we live or die, we are in the 
presence of God." 

Hetty — "O, Dinah, won't nobody do anything for 
me? Will they hang me to-day? — I wouldn't mind if 
they'd let me live." 

Dinah — "My dear Hetty, — death is very dreadful 
to you, I know. But if you had a friend to take care of 
you after death, in that other world — some one whose 
love is greater than mine, who can do everything — 
If God, our Father was your friend, and was willing 
to save you from sin and suffering, so as you should 
neither know wicked feelings nor pain again, if you 
could believe He loved you and would help you, as you 
believe I love and will help you, it wouldn't be so hard 
to die, would it?" 

Hetty (zvith sullen sadness) — "But I can't know 
anything about it." 

Dinah — "Because, Hetty, you are shutting up your 
soul against Him, by trying to hide the truth. God's 
love and mercy can oveixome all things, all things but 
our willful sin ; sin that we cling to and will not give 
up. You believe in mv love for you, don't you, 
Hetty?" 

Hetty — "Yes." 

Dinah — "But if you hadn't let me come near you; 
if you wouldn't have looked at me or spoken to me, 
you'd have shut me out from helping you. I couldn't 
have made you feel my love. Don't shut God's love 
out in that way, by clinging to falsehood and sin, but 
open your heart to Him, say, 'I have done this great 
wickedness; O, God, have mercy upon me, and save 
me.' And then there will enter into your soul light 
and blessedness and strength and peace. Cast it off 
now, Hetty, now; confess the wickedness you have 
done, and have rest. Let us kneel down together, for 
we are in the presence of God. (they sink on their 
knees each holding the other's hand, a pause) Hetty, 



98 ADAM BEDE. 

we are before God; He is waiting for you to tell the 
truth." 

Hetty — "Dinah — help me — I can't feel anything 
like you." 

Dinah (pause) — "Thou, who hast known the 
depths of all sorrow ; Thou, who hast entered that 
black darkness where God is not, and hast uttered the 
cry of the forsaken, stretch forth Thy hand, and rescue 
this, Thy wandering child. The darkness surrounds 
her, she does not know the way to come to Thee; she 
can only feel that her heart is hard and she is helpless. 
She cries to me, Thy weak creature, — Saviour, — it is 
a blind cry to Thee. Hear it. Pierce the darkness. 
Look upon her with Thy face of love and melt her 
hard heart. See, Lord, I bring her in my arms for 
Thee to heal and bless. Breathe upon her Thy life- 
giving spirit, and make her feel Thy living presence. 
Saviour, — it is yet time, snatch this poor soul from 
darkness. I believe, I believe in Thy infinite love, yea. 
Lord, I see Thee coming like the morning with healing 
on Thy wings. Come, mighty Saviour, open her blind 
eyes, let her see that Thy love dost encompass her. Let 
her tremble at nothing but at the sin which cuts her off 
from Thee. Melt her hard heart, unseal her closed 
lips, and make her cry with her whole soul, 'Father, I 
have sinned!' " 

Hetty (sobbing and throzving her arms about 
Dinah) — "Dinah, I will speak — I will tell — I won't 
hide it any more. (Dinah raises her from the floor 
and they sit on the pallet again, after sobs grozv less 
hysterical — she ivhispers) I did do it, Dinah — I left 
it in the wood and it cried — I heard it cry a long way 
off — all night — (the remainder of her speeches Hetty 
should play in a dull monotone) and I went back be 
cause it cried. I didn't want to hurt it — but I thought 
perhaps there might somebody find it. I put it down 
there because I was so miserable — I didn't know where 
to go — I tried to kill myself, but I couldn't. And when 
I went back, it was gone." 



ADAM BEDE. 99 

Dinah — "Were did you go when you left Hay slope, 
Hetty?" 

Hetty — "To Windsor. I went to find him, as lie 
might take care o' me ; and he was gone with the regi- 
ment to Ireland, and then I didn't know what to do. I 
daren't go back home again — I couldn't bear th' scorn 
o' everybody." 

Dinah — 'Tf only you had come to me, Hetty." 

Hetty — "I thought o' you sometimes and it was that 
made me come toward Stoniton, but when I got to 
Stoniton I began to be afraid, because T was going to- 
wards home. And an old beggar woiiian was- kind to 
me. Oh, it was so dreadful, Dinah. I couldn't bear 
being so lonely and coming to beg for want And the 
thought gave me strength to get up and dress myself. 
— And when the old woman went out, I put on my bon- 
net and shawl an' took the baby in my arms an' went 
out into the dark street. I walked fast, on and on, till 
it got lighter — the moon came out — O, Dinah! it 
frightened me when it first looked at me out of t!ie 
clouds, — it never looked so afore. And I turned out 
o' tlie road into the fields, for I was afraid o' meeting 
somebody. I came to a haystack ; there was a place cut 
into it, where I could make a bed ; I crawled in, and 
went to sleep. When I woke up it was beginning to 
be light, and I saw some woods close by, and it was 
so early I thought I could leave the baby tliere and 
somebody would find it when I was a long ways off. I 
wanted to go home, and I thought I'd get rides in carts 
and go home and tell 'em I'd been to try and see for a 
place and couldn't get one. I longed for home, 
Dinah." 

Dinah — "Of course you did, my child, and you 
needed one so much." 

Hetty — "By and by, I came to a place where there 
was lots o' turf, and I sat down to think what I should 
do. And all of a sudden I saw a hole under a tree and 
it darted into me as I might put the baby there. So 
I wrapped it in my shawl an' laid it down. And then 

LofC. 



lOO ADAM BEDE. 

I ran out o' th' wood into the fields, but the crying held 
me back; I couldn't go away for all I wanted to go. 
And I sat against the haystack to watch if anybody 
'ud come; I was hungry and I'd only a bit o' bread 
left; but I couldn't go away." 

Dinah — "My dear Hetty." 

Hetty — "After awhile — hours and hours — the man 
came — him in a smock frock, and he looked at me so, 
I made haste and went on." 

Dinah — "Where did you go then?" 

Hetty — "I walked till I came to a village. I was so 
sick and faint. I got something to eat, but I was 
frightened to stay there for I heard it crying and I 
thought the other folks heard it, too. It was getting 
dark, and I was so tired, Dinah, but I went on. At 
last I saw a barn way ofif from any house. I got there 
and hid myself behind the hay and straw and I went 
to sleep. But, O, Dinah ! the crying kept waking me, 
and I thought that man as looked at me so, was come 
and laying hold o" me. I slept a long while and at 
last it was morning and I got up and turned back the 
way I'd come. I couldn't help it, Dinah, it was the 
crying made me go. I forgot about going home, I 
couldn't think about anything but the place in the 
wood. I see it now. O, Dinah! shall I allays see it?" 
(Hetty clings to Dinah.) 

Dinah — "No, Hetty, no; in a little while all the pain 
and the sorrow of it will be gone." 

Hetty — "When I got to the place it was empty. I 
was like a stone with fear. I couldn't move. I 
couldn't run away. I couldn't wish or try for 
anything; it seemed as if I should stay there for- 
ever and nothing 'ud ever change. But after awhile 
some men came and took me away, (shudders) O. 
Dinah! do you think God will take away that crying 
and the place in the wood, now I've told everything?" 

(Enter Jailor l.) 
Dinah (going to him) — "Is it time?" 



ADAM BEDE. lOI 

Jailor — "No, not yet. Mr. Irwine is outside, he 
A^ants to know if she won't let Adam Bede come in wi' 
him. Adam Bede's been here afore, but she'd never 
see him." 

Dinah (going to Hetty) — "Hetty, Mr. Irwine and 
Adam Bede are waiting to see you — Shall they come 
in? (Hetty hesitates, then nods her head.) Yea, let 
them come in. {exit Jailor) Hetty, there is no one 
who has a deeper love for you than Adam Bede — no 
one on earth to whom you have done a greater wrong ; 
when he comes, be kind to him. Ask him to forgive 
you. He will, Hetty, for he loves you." 

{Enter Jailor followed by Mr. Irwine and Adam 
Bede l.) 

Dinah — "Mr. Irwine. (Irwine goes to Hetty) 
Be comforted, Adam Bede, the Lord has not forsaken 
her." 

Adam — "Bless you for coming to her." 

Dinah — "Thank thee, friend — Hetty desires to ask 
your forgiveness. And now the time is short." 

Adam {zvalks back and forth) — "It won't be, — it'll 
be put off — there'll, perhaps, come a pardon. Mr. Ir- 
wine said there was hope ; he said that I needn't quite 
give it up." 

Dinah — "That's a blessed thought to me. It's a 
fearful thing hurrying her soul away so fast. But 
Divine Love has taken the pride out of her heart and 
this fills me with trust that God will show her His 
mercy. You will say good-bye and let her ask your 
forgiveness ?" 

Adam — "I can't, T can't say good-bye while there's 
hope. I'm listening and listening — I can't think o' 
anything but that. It can't be as she'll die a shameful 
death — I can't bring my mind to it." 

Dinah — "I will not urge you." 

Adam — "If I could do anything to save her — but 
t' have to bide still and do nothing. It's hard for a 



I02 ADAM BEDE. 

man to bear — and to think o' what might ha' been now, 
if it hadna been for him !" 

Dinah — "Aye, it is a heavy cross. But remember, 
we must learn to rise above sorrow and pain, and then 
there may come good out of all this that we don't now 
see." 

Adam — "Good come out of it? That doesna alter 
th' evil. When a man's spoiled his fellow creature's 
life, he's no right to comfort himself wi' thinking 
good may come out of it ; somebody's good doesna alter 
her misery." 

(Enter Jailor l. ) 

Jailor — "The cart is to set out in five minutes. Vis- 
itors must leave the prison." 

Dinah (to Mr. Irwine) — "You will stay till we go 
to the cart ?" 

Rev. Irwine — "Yes." 

Adam (to Jailor) — "Is there no news come, — no 
pardon?" (Dinah goes to Hetty.) 

Jailor — "None." 

Dinah (leads Hetty to Adam. Hetty rests her 
cheek against Dinah's. Hetty and Adam look at 
each other. Hetty trembles) — "Speak to him, Hetty, 
tell him what is in your heart." 

Hetty (obeys like a child) — "Adam — I'm sorry, I 
behaved wrong to vou — will vou — forgive me before 
I die?" 

Adam — "Yes, — I forgive thee, Hetty, — I forgave 
thee long ago." (Hetty keeps hold of Dinah's hand 
but steps forivard a little, timidly.) 

Hetty — "Will you kiss me again, Adam, for all I've 
been so wicked?" (Adam draws her to him and folds 
her in his arms.) And tell him, tell him — for there's 
nobody else to tell him — as I went after him and 
couldn't find him — and I hated him and cursed him 
once, but Dinah says I should forgive him — and 
I try — for else God won't forgive me." (they separ- 
ate) 



ADAM BEDE. IO3 

Dinah (to Adam) — "Farewell; our heavenly 
Father comfort you and strengthen you to bear all 
things. (Adam presses Dinah's hand and exits l. ) 
Close your eyes, Hetty, and let us pray without ceas- 



(Distant noise of shouting heard, shouts come nearer 
and nearer.) 

Hetty — "What is that, Dinah? Are they coming 
for me ? Oh, save me, Dinah, save me ! Can't you save 
me?" 

Dinah — "O, Father, give us strength, for Thou 
art strength, and we are Thy weak creatures." 

(Noise becomes a tumult, Jailor opens cell door, 
Arthur Donnithorne rushes in with glared eyes 
and carrying a paper in his hand. Falls at Hetty's 
feet.) 

Rev. Irwine (taking paper out of his hands) — 
"What is this ?" 

Arthur — "Read — to — her — quick, quick !" 

Rev. Irwine (reads) — "Hetty Sorrel shall be trans- 
ported to Australia for life and the sentence of death 
is hereby revoked !" (Hetty leans upon Mr. Irwine's 
shoulder in a half-fainting condition. Jailor exits.) 

Dinah (extending her arms and looking upzvard) 
— "God of mercy, I thank Thee! I thank Thee!" (out- 
side the cheering of the crowd is heard.) 



Curtain. 



104 ADAM BEDE. 



ACT FIFTH. 



India, April 6th, 1799. Grove of Sultanpet. 

(Six Months Later.) 

Battle in Progress. Noise of Cannon.\ding. 

At rise of curtain soldiers, headed by an ofHcer on 
horseback, are marching across the stage from l. to r. 
Fife and drum corps. Followed by guns draivn by 
horses, and a battalion of sepoys. Discovered, Dinah 
Morris, bending over a zvounded man dozvn l. 

Enter Surgeon Maltby r. 

(Dinah, rising, x's quickly to him.) 

Dinah — "How is the battle going?"' 

Surgeon — "If there is no repetition of last night's 
retreat, Tippu Sahib's forces will soon be routed." 

Dinah — "Heaven be praised !" 

Surgeon — "With the 94th regiment Colonel Welles- 
ley is doing nobly." 

Dinah — "Will there be such a victory as at Mal- 
vilH?" 

Surgeon — "I trust so. Thus far the number of Brit- 
ish killed and wounded is but slight." 

Dinah — "God grant it may continue so. How long 
must this misery go on, doctor?" 

Surgeon — "Until Tippu's power is broken, until 
Seringapatam is taken." 



ADAM BEDE. IO5 

Dinah — "I pray that may be soon." 
Enter Jack Cranage l. 

Surgeon (to Jack) — "T shall establish new quarters 
at this spot and have part of last night's wounded trans- 
ferred here." 

Jack — "Yes, sir." 

Surgeon — "This will also be a suitable place to 
bring some of those injured to-day." (exit l.) 

Dinah (aside) — "Those injured to-day. I cannot 
think it is needful such suffering should be." 

Jack looks curiously at Dinah, approaches her. 

Jack — "I sav, miss, was you ever in Hayslope, Eng- 
land ?" 

Dinah — ''Yea, there are those very dear to me liv- 
ing there." 

Jack — "I thought I'd seen you afore. You're the 
little Methody preacher. Don't you remember me? 
I'm Jack Cranage." 

Dinah — "Jack Cranage. Are you Chad Cranage, 
the blacksmith's son?" 

Jack — "That's who I be." 

Dinah — "God bless thee, friend, (offers hand) I 
am glad to see thee. What news do you hear from 
home?" 

Jack — "I ha' heard no news o' late an' that's good 
news. But how'd you get here? how'd they come to 
let a woman through to the front?" 

Dinah — "At first I was forbidden. But when I 
told them that T saw clearly it was the Lord's will for 
me to come, they gave me leave. To what regiment 
do you belong, friend ?" 

Jack — "To the 94th. I'm detailed to help bring in 
the wounded." 

Dinah — "Then I shall see thee through the day. 
My work is here beside the surgeon. To what com- 
pany do you belong?" 



Io6 ADAM BEDE. 

Jack — "Company B., Captain Arthur Donnithorne." 

Dinah — "Tell me of the young man. Has any harm, 
come to him?" 

Jack — "Not's I know of." 

Dinah (aside) — "Thank God. Then all may yet 
be well. Have you seen Adam Bede of late ?" 

Jack — "Yes, I ha' seen him, but he ain't in our com- 
pany. He's in Company E." 

Dinah — "Will you see Adam Bede to-day, think?" 

Jack — "Mayhappen, I might see him." 

Dinah — "If you should, will you tell him that Dinah. 
Morris is here, that she would like to speak with him ?" 

Jack — "I ain't likely to see him, but if I do I'll tell 
him what you say." (going r.) 

Dinah — "I thank thee, friend." 

Noise of cannonading heard in the distance R. 

Jack (looking off r.) — "They're hard at it. Tippu's 
men 'ull catch it to-day. Afore Lord Mornington gets 
through with him Tippu Sahib 'ull wish he'd never 
made his blasted alliance with the Frencn." (exit R.) 

Enter Surgeon Maltby l., folloived by sepoys car- 
rying injured men. Enter three or four native zvonien.. 
They assist Dinah in looking after the injured. The 
firing continues. Uproar increases. 

Enter r. some British soldiers, forced back by Tip- 
pu's men. They fight fiercely. British soldiers force 
Tippu's men off the stage r. Some zvounded left on 
the stage. These Dinah and the ivomen care for. 

Enter Jack Cranage and a sepoy r. carrying Adam 
Bede. He is zvounded and unconscious. 

Surgeon — "Place him here, (indicating l. c.) Lay- 
him down carefully, (they lay him doivn. Surgeon ex- 
amines Adam. CRAfi AGE stands by). Poor fellow." 

Jack — "He's going to die?" 



ADAM BEDE, lO^ 

Surgeon — "Yes, his wound is fatal." 

Jack — "An' he needna been hurt at all if he hadna 
taken what was meant for Captain Donnithorne." 

Surgeon — "What's that you say?" 

Jack — "Just now, on the field, I was givin' drink 
to a man who was dyin' when I heard a yell, an' saw 
Captain Donnithorne fightin' hand to hand wi' some (> 
those damned Mahrattas. He was gettin' th' worst o' 
it till Adam Bede sprang up an' ran between 'em. They 
had an awful tussle an' th' next thing I knew Adam 
Bede was lying on the ground as if he was dead." 

Surgeon — "If you hadn't brought him in at once 
he never would have left the field alive." 

Adam rccoi'crs consciousness. Jack goes to Dinah.. 

Adam — "What ha' happened, Doctor?" 

Surgeon — "You've been wounded. Are you in 
pain ?" 

Adam — "It doesna matter about me. Where is Cap- 
tain Donnithorne ?" 

Surgeon — "On the field. You saved him. He is. 
unhurt." 

Adam — "It's all square, then — doctor, is it all over 
wi' me?" 

Surgeon — "You are a brave fellow. Take some of 
this cordial, it will keep up your strength. (Adam 
(h'Jnks from Hask.) I will do what I can for you." 

Adam — "I know — I know what you mean, doctor — 
I ha' got to die." 

Jack and Dinah advance. Adam looks at Dinah 
hetvilderedly. 

Adam— "Dinah. Is it you? Is it Dinah Morris?" 
Dinah — "Yea, Adam, it is Dinah. (Dinah kneels 

on one knee and holds Adam in her arms.) Lean on' 

me. There, rest on my shoulder." 

Surgeon and Jack retire up stage. 



I08 ADAM BEDE. 

Adam — "I ha' longed to see you, Dinah." 

Dinah — "Thank thee, Adam. And it hghtens my 
heart to see thee, and to hear of the noble deed you 
have done to-day." 

Adam — "Ah, Dinah, I ha' done no noble deed." 

Dinah — "Nay, Adam, but it is noble to lay down 
thy life for one who has injured thee." 

Adam — "But you don't know all — I ha' been a 
wicked sinner." 

Dinah — "Adam, be comforted." 

Adam — "No, no, I mun tell you. You mun hear me 
— I came to India to follow him." 

Dinah — "I know, Adam." 

Adam — "I would ha' followed him to th' ends o' th' 
earth. — Though I couldna get in his company I enlisted 
in the same regiment; an' sin' then I've waited, days, 
wrecks, for the chance to kill him." 

Dinah — "O, Adam, that sin thou hast atoned f(^r." 

Adam — "If it hadna been for th' disgrace to mother 
an' Seth, I would ha' killed him in England. But I 
didna want to make it worse for them, an' I thought in 
a battle nobody would know how he was shot. Dinah, 
I was mad to murder him." 

Dinah — "Don't, don't speak about it now." 

Adam — "Last night when I heard we was goin' into 
battle I was happy — for the first time sin' so long ago. 
I could hardly wait for th' break o' day. I was all fever- 
ish an' afraid as somethin' might happen to me so as I'd 
miss my chance. I kep' sayin' to myself. To-morrow, 
to-morrow , O, God, let me ha' all my senses until to- 
morrow. Let me live just one day more. — Toward 
mornin' I fell asleep — I dreamed o' home, o' you, 
Dinah, an' you was bendin' over me just as you are 
now, your face lookin' so lovin' an' sorrowful." 

Dinah — "I was praying for thee, then. It was 
shown to me that thou must wrestle as Jacob wrestled, 
and I prayed for thee as I had never prayed for any 
'One before." 

Adam — "When I woke up it was mornin' an' time 



ADAM BEDE. IO9 

to march. As we fell in I could hear you say in' just 
as plain, Adam, for my sake, for your own sake, forgi'e 
him. But I answered. No, no, he shall be punished. 
I ha' th' right to kill him. — We went into battle. 
I \vatched him. I came closer an' closer. I 
took aim. Dinah, you mun ha' been prayin' then, for I 
heard a voice that would be answered say to me. Who 
are you? Ha' you never done wrong? What right 
ha' you to take this man's life ? I dropped my gun an' 
stood pantin' as if I'd been runnin' an' was out of 
breath. Somethin' held me back ; I tried, but I couldna 
lift the gun. Just then I saw the rapiain was fightin' 
alone wi' two tall men. He was gettin' th' better o' 
them till more came up. They were shoutin' an' wavin' 
their crooked swords an' I knew it meant death to go in 
between 'em, but I didna think o' that. I forgot every- 
thin', everythin', Dinah, but T mun save th" captain's 
life. An' I ha' saved his life, an' it's all over wi' me. — 
But I forgi'e him, Dinah, I forgi'e him, an' I ha' no 
more hard feelin's toward him." 

Dinah — "O, God ! Thou hast saved this precious 
soul alive. Adam, thy words have brought great peace 
to me." 

Adam — "You think so much o' me as that?" 

Dinah — ''Aye, Adam, not a day or a night has 
passed since I knew what was in thy heart but I prayed 
that God's mercy would be revealed to thee." 

Adam — "Thy prayers ha' been ansAvered. It ha' 
been revealed to me. But can full pardon be shown to 
such a sinner as I ha' been?" 

Dinah — '*Aye, Adam, trust Him. His love is un- 
failing. His mercy everlasting." 

Adam — "I do trust Him. I'm not long now for this 
world, Dinah. Before I go, you'll let me say what's 
in my heart?" 

Dinah — "Yea, Adam." 

Adam — "You ha' filled my mind o' late, an' I ha' 
grown to see what a blessed woman you ha' been to me. 
If I had seen things as I ought to ha' seen them, I 



no ADAM BEDE. 

should ha' known before, it was you I loved as a man 
should love the woman he would make his wife. I 
love you wi' my whole heart. If I could ha' lived 
would you ha' been my wife ? Do you feel you could, 
Dinah ?" 

Dinah— "Yea, Adam." 

Adam — "You love me?" 

Dinah — "Yea, I love thee. My heart waits on thy 
words and looks as a little child waits on its mother's 
tenderness." 

Adam — "Dinah!" (kisses her) 

Dinah (sobs) — "It is too late! too late." 

Adam — "Nay, not too late. For we shall meet i' th' 
green fields o' heaven where there is no pain an' where 
th' shadow o' parting never comes." 

Dinah — "Yea, I was forgetting. There we shall 
abide forever and forever." 

Adam — "But until you come the time o' waitin' will 
be long to me." 

Dinah — "Nay, it will seem long only to me. For 
it will be no more than a day in heavenly mansions." 

Adam — "The thought o' you goes wi' me there — 
I'm dying fast — Do not grieve — I know that my Re- 
deemer liveth — I ha' repented — Though your sins be 
as scarlet they shall be as white as snow, (calls) 
Dinah !" ' 

Dinah (stroking his forehead and sobbing) — "I am 
here." 

Adam (after a second struggles to his feet delirious) 
— Why, mother, (in pantomime folds her to his 
breast) Seth, lad, you're surprised to see me home 
again? An' here's Dinah, too." 

Dinah — "The God of love and peace be with him." 

Adam — "Yea, Dinah's wi' me — th' best woman i' th' 
world. Th' comfort o' us all. It's good to be home 
again. Thee'st looking rare and hearty, mother. Flow 
green th' fields are i' Hayslope, an' how fresh th' 
flowers smell. Seth, lad, is there plenty o' buildin' to 
be done i' th' village? We mun set to work wi' a will 



ADAM BEDE. Ill 

Tlow the war is over. There'll be no more fightin' — 
Peace ha' come — yea — peace ha' come, {recovers con- 
sciousness) Dinah !" (staggers, sinks back supported 
by Surgeon Maltby and Dinah.) 
Dinah — "Adam! Adam!" 

Booming of cannon. 
Curtain. 



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